^■^  .  ,   •,•:' 


PRESENTED  TO  THE  LIBRARY 


OF 


PRINCETON  THEOLOGICSL  SEMINARY       ■ 


BY 


JVIps.  Rlexandep  Ppoudfit. 

BR  112  .T3  1830 

Taylor,  Isaac,  1787-1865. 

Natural  history  of 

enthusiasm 


/ 


NATURAL     HISTORY 


ENTHUSIASM. 


.TO  <r'   a    KTPIA. 


/)  "/ 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY   CROCKER  &  BREWSTER, 

47,  Washington  Street. 

NEW   YORK.— J.    LEAVITT, 

182,  Broadway. 

1830. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  belief  that  a  bright  era  of  renovation, 
and  union,  and  extension,  presently  awaits 
the  Christian  Church,  seems  to  be  very  gener- 
ally entertained.  The  writer  of  this  volume 
participates  in  the  cheeryig  hope;  and  it  has 
impelled  him  to  undertake  the  difficult  task  of 
describing,  under  its  various  forms,  that  ficti- 
tious PIETY  which  hitherto  has  never  failed 
to  appear  in  times  of  unusual  religious  excite- 
ment, and  which  may  be  anticipated  as  the 
probable  attendant  of  a  new  developement  of 
the  powers  of  Christianity. 

But  while  it  has  been  the  writer's  principal 
aim  to  present  before  the  Christian  reader,  in 


IV  ADVERTISEMENT. 

as  distinct  a  manner  as  possible,  the  characters 
of  that  perilous  illusion  which  too  often  sup- 
plants genuine  piety,  he  has  also  endeavored 
so  to  fix  the  sense  of  the  term — Enthusiasm, 
as  to  wrest  it  from  those  who  misuse  it  to 
their  own  infinite  damage. 


COJVTEJVTS. 


SECTION  I. 

PAGE 

Enthusiasm  Secular  and  Religious     ------      9 

SECTION  11. 

Enthusiasm  in  Devotion     ---------29 

SECTION  III. 

Enthusiastic  Perversions  of  the  Doctrine  of  Divine 

Influence     -  --_-__-___    64 

SECTION  IV. 

Enthusiasm  the  Source  of  Heresy     ------81 

SECTION  V. 

Enthusiasm  of  Prophetical  Interpretation      -      -      -     99 


CONTENTS. 


SECTION  VI. 

PAGE 

Enthusiastic  abuses  of  the  Doctrine  of  a  Particular 

Providence     -----------     122 

SECTION  VII. 
Enthusiasm  of  Philanthropy     -------      156 

SECTION  VIII. 

Sketch  of  the  Enthusiasm  of  the  Ancient  Church     -     181 

SECTION  IX. 

The  same  subject — Ingredients  of  the  Ancient  Mona- 
chism     -------      -----20 

SECTION  X. 

Hints  on  the  probable  spread  of   Christianity,  submitted 
to  those  who  misuse  the  term — Enthusiasm     -      248 


NATURAL 


HISTORY    OF    E]VTHUSIASJ\I. 


SECTION  I. 

ENTHUSIASM,   SECULAR   AND   RELIGIOUS. 

Some  form  of  beauty,  engendered  by  the  imagina- 
tion, or  some  semblance  of  dignity  or  grace,  invests 
almost  every  object  that  excites  desire.  These  illu- 
sions— if  indeed  they  ought  to  be  called  illusions, 
serve  the  purpose  of  blending  the  incongruous  ma- 
terials of  human  nature,  and  by  mediating  between 
body  and  spirit,  reconcile  the  animal  and  intellectual 
propensities,  and  give  dignity  and  harmony  to  the 
character  of  man.  It  is  these  unsubstantial  im- 
pressions that  enrich  and  enliven  the  social  affec- 
tions; and  these,  not  less  than  the  superiority  of  the 
reasoning  faculties,  elevate  mankind  above  the  brute: 
2 


JO 

ENTHUSIASM, 

and,  as  the  germinating  principles  of  all  improve- 
ment and  refinement,  distinguish  civilized  from  sav- 
age life. 

The  constitutional  difference  between  one  man 
and  another  is  to  be  traced,  in  great  measure,  to  the 
(jnality  and  vigor  of  the  imagination.  Thus  it  will 
he  found  that  eminently  active  and  energetic  spirits 
are  peculiarly  susceptible  to  those  natural  exagger- 
ations, by  which  the  mind  enhances  the  value  of 
whatever  it  pursues.  At  the  same  time  an  efficient 
energy  always  implies  the  power  of  control  over 
such  impressions.  Yet  it  is  enough  that  these  crea- 
tions of  fancy  should  be  under  the  command  of 
reason;  for  good  sense  by  no  means  demands  a  rigid 
scrutiny  into  the  composition  or  mechanism  of  com- 
mon motives,  or  asks  that  whatever  is  not  ab- 
solutely substantial  in  the  objects  of  desire  should 
be  spurned.  He  who  is  not  too  wise  to  be  happy, 
leaves  the  machinery  of  human  nature  to  accom- 
plish its  revolutions  unexplored,  and  is  content  to 
hold  the  mastery  over  its  movements.  Whoever, 
instead  of  repressing  the  irregularities  of  the  imag- 
ination, and  forbidding  its  predominance,  would  al- 
together exclude  its  influence,  must  either  sink  far 
below  the  common  level  of  humanity,  or  rise  much 
above  it. 

The  excesses  of  the  imagination  are  of  two  kinds; 
the  first  is  when,  within  its  proper  sphere,  it  gains 
so  great  a  power  that  all  other  affections  and  mo- 
tives belonging  to  human  nature  are  overborne  and 
excluded.     It  is  thus  that  intellectual  or  professional 


SECULAR    AND    RELIGIOUS.  I  I 

pursuits  seem  sometimes  to  annihilate  all  sympathy 
with  the  common  interests  of  life,  and  to  render  a 
man  a  mere  phantom,  except  within  the  particular 
circle  of  his  favorite  objects.  The  second  kind  of 
excess  is  of  much  more  evil  tendency,  and  consists 
in  a  trespass  of  the  imagination  upon  ground  where 
it  should  have  little  or  no  influence,  and  where  it 
can  only  prevent  or  disturb  the  operation  of  reason 
and  right  feeling.  Thus,  not  seldom,  it  is  seen  that 
the  sobrieties  of  good  sense,  and  the  counsels  of 
experience,  and  the  obvious  motives  of  interest,  and 
perhaps  even  the  dictates  of  rectitude,  are  set  at 
nought  by  an  exorbitant  imagination,  which,  over- 
stepping its  proper  function,  invests  even  the' most 
common  objects,  either  with  preposterous  charms, 
or  with  unreal  deformities.  Very  few  minds,  per- 
haps, are  altogether  free  from  some  such  constitu- 
tional fictions,  which,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  in- 
tercept our  view  of  things  as  they  are.  And  from 
the  same  cause  it  is  that  we  so  greatly  miscalculate 
the  amount  of  happiness  or  of  suffering  that  belongs 
to  the  lot  of  those  around  us;  which  happens,  not  so 
much  because  their  actual  circumstances  are  un- 
known, as  because  their  habitual  illusions  are  not 
perceived  by  us.  And  if  that  coloring  medium 
through  which  every  man  contemplates  his  own  con- 
dition were  exposed  to  the  eyes  of  others,  the  vic- 
tims of  calamity  might  sometimes  be  envied;  and 
the  favorites  of  fortune  would  often  become  the  ob- 
jects of  pity.  Or  if  every  one  were  in  a  moment  to 
be  disenchanted   of  whatever  is  ideal  in  his  perma- 


12  ENTHUSIASM, 

iient  sensations,  every  one  would  tliink  himself  at- 
once  much  less  happy,  and  much  more  so,  than  he 
had  hitherto  supposed. 

The  force  and  extravagance  of  the  imagination  is 
in  some  constitutions  so  great,  that  it  admits  of  no 
correction  from  even  the  severest  lessons  of  experi- 
ence, much  less  from  the  advices  of  wisdom: — The 
enthusiast  passes  through  life  in  a  sort  of  happy 
somnambulency — smiling  and  dreaming  as  he  goes, 
unconscious  of  whatever  is  real,  and  busy  with 
whatever  is  fantastic: — now  he  treads  with  naked 
foot  on  thorns;  now  plunges  through  depths;  now 
verges  the  precipice,  and  always  preserves  the  same 
impassible  serenity,  and  displays  the  same  reckless 
hardihood. 

But  if  the  predominance  of  the  imagination  da 
not  approach  quite  so  near  to  the  limits  of  insanity 
— if  it  admit  of  correction,  then,  the  many  checks 
and  reverses  which  belong  to  the  common  course  of 
human  life  fray  it  away  from  present  scenes,  and 
either  send  it  back  in  pensive  recollections  of  past 
pleasures,  or  forwards  in  anticipation  of  a  bright 
futurity.  The  former  is  of  the  two  the  safer  kind  of 
constitutional  error;  for  as  the  objects  upon  which 
the  imagination  fixes  its  gaze  remain  always  un- 
changed, they  impart  a  sort  of  tranquillity  to  the 
mind,  and  even  favor  its  converse  with  wisdom;  but 
the  latter  being  variable,  and  altogether  under  the 
command  of  the  inventive  faculty,  bring  with  them 
perpetual  agitations,  and  continually  create  new 
excitement.   Besides;  as  these  egregious  hopes  come 


SECULAR    AND    RELIGIOUS.  13 

in  their  turn  to  be  dispelled  by  realities,  the  fond 
pensioner  upon  futurity  lives  in  the  vexations  of  one 
who  believes  himself  always  plundered;  for  each 
day  as  it  comes  robs  him  of  what  he  had  called  his  ^  > 
own.  Thus  the  real  ills  of  life  pierce  the  heart  with 
a  double  edge. 

The   propensity  of  a  disordered  imagination  to 
find,  or  to  create,  some  region  of  fictitious  happi- 
ness, leads  not  a  few  to  betake   themselves  to  the 
fields  of  intellectual  enjoyment,  where  they  may  be 
exempt  from  the   annoyances  that  infest  the  lower 
world.     Hence  it  is  that  the  walks  of  natural  philo- 
sophy or  abstract  science,  and   of  literature,  and 
especially  of  poetry  and  the  fine  arts,  are  frequented 
by    many  who  addict  themselves  to  pursuits  of  this 
kind,  not  so  much  from  the  genuine  impulse  of  na- 
tive genius  or  taste,  as  from  a  yearning  desire  to  dis- 
cover some  paradise  of  delights,  where  no  croaking 
voice  of  disappointment  is  heard,  and  where  adver- 
sity has  no  range  or  leave  of  entrance.     These  in- 
truders upon  the  realms   of  philosophy — these  refu- 
gees from  the  vexations  of  common  life,  as  they  are 
in  quest  merely  of  solace  and  diversion,  do  not  often 
become  effective   laborers  in  the  departments  upon 
which  they   enter:    their  motive  possesses  not  the 
vigor  necessary  for    continued  and  productive  toil. 
Or  if  a  degree  of  ambition  happens  to  be  conjoined 
with  the  feeble  ardor  of  the   mind,  it   renders  them 
empirics  in  science,  or  schemers  in  mechanics;  or 
they  essay  their  ineptitude  upon  some  gaudy  or  pre- 
posterous extravagance  of  verse  or  picture;  or  per- 


14  ENTHUSIASM, 

haps  spend  their  days  in  loading  folios,  shelves,  and 
glass-cases  with  curious  lumber  of  whatever  kind 
most  completely  unites  the  qualities  of  rarity  and 
worthlessness. 

Nature  has  furnished  each  of  the  active  faculties 
with  a  sensibility  to  pleasure  in  its  own  exercise:  this 
sensibility  is  the  spring  of  spontaneous  exertion; 
and  if  the  intellectual  constitution  be  robust,  it  serves 
to  stimulate  labor,  and  yet  itself  observes  a  modest 
sobriety,  leaving  the  forces  of  the  mind  to  do  their 
part  without  embarrassment.  The  pleasurable  emo- 
tion is  always  subordinate  and  subservient,  never 
predominant  or  importunate.  But  in  minds  of  a  less 
healthy  temperament,  the  emotion  of  pleasure  and 
the  consequent  excitement  is  disproportionate  to  the 
strength  of  the  faculties.  The  efficient  power  of. 
the  understanding  is  therefore  overborne,  and  left  in 
the  rear;  there  is  more  of  commotion  than  of  action; 
more  of  movement  than  of  progress;  more  of  enter- 
prise than  of  achievement. 

Such  then  are  those  who,  in  due  regard  both  to 
the  essential  differences  of  character,  and  to  the 
proprieties  of  language,  should  be  termed  Enthusi- 
asts. To  apply  an  epithet  which  carries  with  it  an 
idea  of  folly,  of  weakness,  and  of  extravagance,  to 
a  vigorous  mind,  efficiently  as  well  as  ardently  en- 
gaged in  the  pursuit  of  any  substantial  and  impor- 
tant object,  is  not  merely  to  misuse  a  word,  but  to 
introduce  confusion  among  our  notions,  and  to  put 
contempt  upon  what  is  deserving  of  respect.  Where 
there  is  no  error  of  imagination — no  misjudging  of 


SECULAR    AND    RELIGIOUS.  15 

realities — no  calculations  which  reason  condemns, 
there  is  no  enthusiasm,  even  though  the  soul  may  be 
on  fire  with  the  velocity  of  its  movement  in  pursuit 
of  its  chosen  object.  If  once  we  abandon  this  dis- 
tinction, language  will  want  a  term  for  a  well-known 
and  very  common  vice  of  the  mind;  and,  from  a 
wasteful  perversion  of  phrases,  we  must  be  reduced 
to  speak  of  qualities  most  noble  and  most  base  by 
the  very  same  designation.  If  the  objects  which 
excite  the  ardor  of  the  mind  are  substantial,  and  if 
the  mode  of  pursuit  be  truly  conducive  to  their  at- 
tainment;— if,  in  a  word,  all  be  real  and  genuine, 
then  it  is  not  one  degree  more,  or  even  many  degrees 
more,  of  intensity  of  feeling  that  can  alter  the 
the  character  of  the  emotion.  Enthusiasm  is  not  a 
term  of  measurement,  but  of  quality. 

When  it  is  said  that  enthusiasm  is  the  fault  of 
infirm  constitutions,  an  apparent  exception  must  be 
made  in  behalf  of  a  few  high-tempered  spirits,  dis- 
tinguished by  their  indefatigable  energy,  and  des- 
tined to  achieve  arduous  and  hazardous  enterprises. 
That  such  spirits  often  exhibit  the  characters  of  en- 
thusiasm cannot  be  denied;  for  the  imagination 
spurns  restraint,  and  rejects  all  the  sober  meas- 
urements and  calculations  of  reason  whenever  its 
chosen  object  is  in  view;  and  a  tinge,  often  more 
than  a  tinge,  of  extravagance  belongs  to  every  word 
and  action.  And  yet  the  exception  is  only  apparent; 
for  though  these  giants  of  human  nature  greatly  sur- 
pass other  men  in  force  of  mind,  and  courage,  and 
activity,  still  the  heroic  extravagance,  and  the  irreg- 


16  ENTHUSIASM, 

ular  and  ungovernable  power,  which  enables  them 
to  dare  and  to  do  so  much,  is,  in  fact,  nothing  more 
than  a  partial  accumulation  of  strength,  necessary 
because  the  utmost  energies  of  human  nature  are 
so  small,  that,  if  equably  distributed  through  the 
system,  they  would  be  inadequate  to  arduous  labors. 
The  very  same  task,  which  the  human  hero  achieves 
in  the  fury  and  fever  of  a  half-mad  enthusiasm, 
would  be  performed  by  a  seraph  in  the  perfect  se- 
renity of  reason.  Although  therefore  these  vigor- 
ous minds  are  strong  when  placed  in  comparison 
with  others,  their  enthusiasm  is  in  itself  a  weakness; 
— a  weakness  of  the  species,  if  not  of  the  individual. 

Unless  a  perpetual  miracle  were  to  intercept  the 
natural  operation  of  common  causes,  religion,  not 
less  than  philosophy  or  poetry,  will  draw  enthusiasts 
within  its  precincts.  Nor,  if  we  recollect  on  the  one 
hand  the  fitness  of  the  vast  objects  revealed  in  the 
Scriptures  to  affect  the  imagination,  and  on  the  other 
the  wide  diffusion  of  religious  ideas,  can  it  seem 
strange  if  it  be  found,  in  fact,  that  religious  enthu- 
siasts outnumber  any  other  class.  It  is  also  quite 
natural  that  enthusiastic  and  genuine  religious  emo- 
tions should  be  intermingled  with  peculiar  intricacy, 
since  the  revelations  which  give  them  scope  com- 
bine, in  a  peculiar  manner,  the  elements  of  grandeur, 
of  power,  and  of  sublimity,  with  those  ideas  that 
furnish  excitement  to  the  moral  sentiments. 

The  religion  of  the  heart  may  be  supplanted  by  a 
religion  of  the  imagination,  just  in  the  same  way 
that  the  social  affections  are  often  dislodged  or  cor- 


SECULAR    AND    RELIGIOUS.  '      17 

rupted  by  factitious  sensibilities.  Every  one  knows 
that  an  artificial  excitement  of  all  the  kind  and  ten- 
der emotions  of  our  nature  may  take  place  through 
the  medium  of  the  imagination.  Hence  the  power 
of  poetry  and  the  drama.  But  every  one  must  also 
ktiow  that  these  feelings,  however  vivid  and  seem- 
ingly pure  and  salutary  they  may  be,  and  however 
nearly  they  may  resemble  the  genuine  workings  of 
the  soul,  are  so  far  from  producing  the  same  soften- 
ing effect  upon  the  character,  that  they  tend  rather 
to  indurate  the  heart.  Whenever  excitements  of  any 
kind  are  regarded  distinctly  as  a  source  of  luxurious 
pleasure,  then,  instead  of  expanding  the  bosom  with 
beneficent  energy,  instead  of  dispelling  the  sinister 
purposes  of  selfishness,  instead  of  shedding  the 
softness  and  warmth  of  generous  love  through  the 
moral  system,  they  become  a  freezing  centre  of  sol- 
itary and  unsocial  indulgence;  and  at  length  displace 
every  emotion  that  deserves  to  be  called  virtuous. 
No  cloak  of  selfishness  is  in  fact  more  impenetrable 
than  that  which  usually  envelopes  a  pampered  imagi- 
nation. The  reality  of  woe  is  the  very  circumstance 
that  paralyses  sympathy;  and  the  eyes  that  can  pour 
forth  their  floods  of  commiseration  for  the  sorrows  of 
the  romance  or  the  drama,  grudge  a  tear  to  the  sub- 
stantial wretchedness  of  the  unhappy.  Much  more 
often  than  not,  this  kind  of  luxurious  sensitive- 
ness to  fiction  is  conjoined  with  a  callousness  that 
enables  the  subject  of  it  to  pass  through  the 
affecting  occasions  of  domestic  life  in  immovable 
apathy: — the  heart  has  become,  like  that  of  Levia- 


18  ENTHUSIASM, 

than,  "firm  as  a  stone — yea,  hard  as  a  piece  of  the 
nether  millstone." 

A  process  of  perversion  and  of  induration  precisely 
similar  may  have  place  also  among  the  religious  emo- 
tions; for  the  laws  of  human  nature  are  uniform, 
v/hatever  may  be  the  immediate  cause  which  puts 
them  in  action;  and  a  fictitious  piety  corrupts  or  pet- 
rifies the  heart  not  less  certainly  than  does  a  roman- 
tic sentimentality.  The  danger  attending  enthusi- 
asm in  religion  is  not  then  of  a  trivial  sort;  and  who- 
ever disaffects  the  substantial  matters  of  Christiani- 
ty, and  seeks  to  derive  from  it  merely,  or  chiefly,  the 
gratifications  of  excited  feeling;  whoever  combines 
from  its  materials  a  paradise  of  abstract  contempla- 
tion, or  of  poetic  imagery,  where  he  may  take  refuge 
from  the  annoyances  and  the  importunate  claims  of 
common  life; — whoever  thus  delights  himself  with 
dreams,  and  is  insensible  to  realities,  lives  in  peril  of 
awaking  from  his  illusions  when  truth  comes  too  late. 
The  religious  idealist,  perhaps,  sincerely  believes 
himself  to  be  eminently  devout;  and  those  who  wit- 
ness his  abstraction,  his  elevation,  his  enjoyments, 
may  reverence  his  piety;  meanwhile  this  fictitious 
happiness  creeps  as  a  lethargy  through  the  moral 
system,  and  is  rendering  him  continually  less  and 
less  susceptible  of  those  emotions  in  which  true  re- 
ligion consists. 

Nor  is  this  always  the  limit  of  the  evil;  for 
though  religious  enthusiasm  may  sometimes  seem 
a  harmless  delusion,  compatible  with  amiable  feel- 
in<M  and   virtuous    conduct,   it    more  often   allies 


SECULAR    AND    RELIGIOUS.  19 

itself  with  the  malign  passions,  and  then  produces 
the  virulent  mischiefs  of  fanaticism.  Opportunity 
may  be  wanting,  and  habit  may  be  wanting,  but 
intrinsic  qualification  for  the  perpetration  of  the 
worst  crimes  is  not  wanting  to  the  man  whose  bosom 
heaves  with  enthusiasm,  inflamed  by  malignancy.  If 
checks  are  removed,  if  incitements  are  presented,  if 
the  momentum  of  action  and  custom  is  acquired,  he 
will  soon  learn  to  extirpate  every  emotion  of  kind- 
ness or  of  pity,  as  if  it  were  a  treason  against  heaven; 
and  will  make  it  his  ambition  to  rival  the  achieve- 
ments, not  of  heroes,  but  of  fiends.  The  amenities 
that  have  been  difliised  through  society  in  modern 
times  forbid  the  overt  acts  and  excesses  of  fanatical 
feeling;  but  the  venom  still  lurks  in  the  vicinity  of 
enthusiasm,  and  may  be  quickened  in  a  moment: 
meantime,  while  smothered  and  repressed,  it  gives 
edge  and  spirit  to  those  religious  differences  which 
are  the  opprobrium  of  Christianity.  Whoever  then 
admits  into  his  bosom  the  artificial  fire  of  an  imag- 
inative piety,  ought  first  to  assure  himself  that  his 
heart  harbors  no  particle  of  the  poison  of  ill-will. 
The  reproach  so  eagerly  propagated  by  those  who 
make  no  religious  pretensions,  against  those  who  do 
— that  their  godliness  serves  them  as  a  cloak  of  im- 
morality, is,  to  a  great  extent,  calumnious:  it  is  also 
in  some  measure  founded  upon  facts,  which,  though 
misunderstood  and  exaggerated,  give  color  to  the 
charge.  When  professors  of  religion  are  suddenly 
found  to  be  wanting  in  common  integrity,  or  in  per- 
sonal virtue,  no  other  supposition  is  admitted  by  the 


20  ENTHUSIASM, 

world  than  that  the  delinquent  was  always  a  hypo- 
crite; and  this  supposition  is,  no  doubt,  sometimes  not 
erroneous.  But  much  more  often  his  fall  has  surprised 
himself,  not  less  than  others;  and  is,  in  fact,  the  nat- 
ural issue  ofa  fictitious  piety,  which,  though  it  might 
hold  itself  entire  under  ordinary  circumstances,  gave 
way  necessarily  in  the  hour  of  unusual  trial.  An 
artificial  religion  not  only  fails  to  impart  to  the  mind 
the  vigor  and  consistency  of  true  virtue,  but  with- 
draws attention  from  those  common  principles  of 
honor  and  integrity  which  carry  worldly  men  with 
credit  through  difficult  occasions.  The  enthusiast 
is,  therefore,  of  all  men  the  one  who  is  the  worst 
prepared  to  withstand  peculiar  seductions. — He 
possesses  neither  the  heavenly  armor  of  virtue, 
nor  the  earthly. 

It  were  an  aftVont  to  reason,  as  well  as  to  theol- 
ogy, to  suppose  that  true  and  universal  virtue  can 
rest  on  any  other  foundation  than  the  fear  and  love 
of  God.  The  enthusiast,  therefore,  whose  piety  is 
fictitious,  has  only  a  choice  of  immoralities,  to  be 
determined  by  his  temperament  and  circumstances. 
He  may  become,  perhaps,  nothing  worse  than  a 
recluse — a  lazy  contemplatist,  and  intellectual  vol- 
uptuary, shut  up  from  his  fellows  in  the  circle  of 
profitless  spiritual  delights  or  conflicts.  The  times 
are  indeed  gone  by  when  persons  of  this  class  might, 
in  contempt  of  their  species,  and  in  idolatry  of 
themselves,  withdraw  to  dens,  and  hold  society  only 
with  bats,  and  make  the  supreme  wisdom  to  consist 
in  the  possession  of  a  long  beard,  a  filthy  blanket. 


SECULAR    AND    RELTGIOUS.  21 

and  a  taste  for  raw  herbs:*  but  the  same  tastes,  ani- 
mated by  the  same  principles,  fail  not  still  to  find 
place  of  indulgence,  even  amid  the  crowds  of  a 
city:  and  the  recluse  who  lives  in  the  world  will, 
probably,  be  more  sour  in  temper  than  the  anchoret 
of  the  wilderness.  An  ardent  temperament  con- 
verts the  enthusiast  into  a  zealot,  who,  while  he  is 
laborious  in  winning  proselytes,  discharges  com- 
mon duties  very  remissly,  and  is  found  to  be  a  more 
punctilious  observer  of  his  creed,  than  of  his  word. 
Or,  if  his  imagination  be  fertile,  he  becomes  a  vis- 
ionary, who  lives  on  better  terms  with  angels  and 
with  seraphs,  than  with  his  children,  servants  and 
neighbors:  or  he  is  one  who,  while  he  reverences 
the  "thrones,  dominions  and  powers"  of  the  invis- 
ible world,  vents  his  spleen  in  railing  at  all  "digni- 
ties and  powers"  of  earth. 

Superstition — the  creature  of  guilt  and  fear,  is 
almost  as  ancient  as  the  human  family.  But  Enthu- 
siasm, the  child  of  hope,  hardly  appeared  on  earth 
until  after  the  time  when  life  and  innnortality  had 

*  "Hal)ita.nt  pierique  in  eremo  sine  ullis  tabernaculis  quos  Anachoretas 
vocant.     Vivunt  herbarum  radicibus:  nullo  unquam  certo  loco  consistunt, 

ne  ab  hominibus  frcquentcntur:  quas  nox  coegerit  sedes  habcnt Inter 

Imjus  (Sina)  recessus  Anachoreta  essealiquis  ferebatur  quern  diu  multum- 
que  qupesitum  videre  non  potui,  qui  fere  jam  ante  quinquaginta  annos  a 
conversatione  humana  remotus,  nullo  veslis  usu,  setis  corporis  sui  tectus, 
nuditatem  suam  divino  munere  vestiebat.  Hie  quoties  eum  religiosi  viri 
adire  voluerunt,  cursuavia  petens,  congressus  vitabat  humanos.  Uni  tan- 
tummodo  ferebatur  se  ante  quinquennium  praebuisse,  qui  credo  potenti  fide 
id  obtinere  promeruit:  cui  inter  multa  conloquia  percuncianti,  cur  homines 
tantopere  vitaret,  respondisse  perbibetur,  Eum  qui  ab  hominibus  frequent- 
aretur  non  posse  ab  angelis  fretjuentari." — Sulp.  Sev.  Dialog.  I. 

3 


22  ENTHUSIASM, 

been  brouglit  to  light  by  Christianity.  Hitherto,  a 
cloud  of  the  thickest  gloom  had  stretched  itself  out 
before  the  eye  of  mart  as  he  trod  the  sad  path  to  the 
gravej  and  though  poetry  supplied  its  fictions,  and 
philosophy  its  surmises,  neither  possessed  any  force 
or  authentication;  and  therefore  neither  had  power 
to  awaken  the  soul.  But  the  Christian  revelation 
not  only  shed  a  sudden  splendor  upon  the  awful 
futurity,  but  brought  its  revelations  to  bear  upon  the 
minds  of  men  with  all  the  pressure  and  intensity  of 
palpable  facts.  The  long  slumbering  sentiment  of 
immortal  hope — a  sentiment  natural  to  the  human 
constitution,  instead  of  being  deluded  by  dreams, 
was  thoroughly  aroused  by  the  hand  and  voice  of 
reality;  and  human  nature  exhibited  a  new  devel- 
opment of  the  higher  passions.  When,  therefore,  in 
the  second  century  of  the  Christian  era,  various  and 
vigorous  forms  of  an  enthusiasm — such  as  the  world 
had  hitherto  never  known,  are  seen  to  start  forth  on 
the  stage  of  history,  we  behold  the  indications  of 
the  presence  of  Truth,  giving  an  impulse  to  the 
human  mind — both  for  the  better  and  the  worse — 
which  no  fictions  of  sages  or  poets  had  ever  im- 
parted. 

In  proportion  as  the  influence  of  Scriptural  reli- 
gion faded,  the  elder  and  the  younger  vice — Super- 
stition and  Enthusiasm,  joined  their  forces  to  deform 
every  principle  and  practice  of  Christianity,  and  in 
the  course  of  four  or  five  centuries,  under  their  unit- 
ed operation,  a  faint  semblance  only  of  its  primeval 
beauty  survived:  another  period  of  five  hundred  years 


SECULAR    AND     RELIGIOUS.  -io 

saw  Superstition  prevail,  almost  to  the  extinction, 
not  only  of  true  religion,  but  of  enthusiasm  also;  and 
mankind  fell  back  into  a  gloom  as  thick  as  that  of 
the  ancient  polytheism.  But  at  length  the  brea()th 
of  life  returned  to  the  prostrate  church,  and  the  ac- 
cumulated and  consolidated  evils  of  many  ages  were 
thrown  off  in  a  day.  Yet  as  Superstition  more  than 
Enthusiasm  had  spoiled  Christianity,  she  chiefly  was 
recognized  as  the  enemy  of  religion;  and  the  latter, 
rather  than  the  former,  held  a  place  in  the  sanctuary 
after  its  cleansing.  Since  that  happy  period  of  refresh- 
ment and  renovation,  both  vices  have  had  their  sea- 
sons of  recovered  influence;  but  both  have  been  held 
in  check,  and  their  prevalence  effectually  prevented. 
At  the  present  time — we  speak  of  protestant  Chris- 
tendom, the  power  of  superstition  is  exceedingly 
small;  for  the  diffusion  of  general  knowledge,  and 
the  prevalence  of  true  religion,  and,  not  less,  the 
influence  of  the  infidel  spirit,  forbid  the  advances  of 
an  error  which  must  always  lean  for  support  on  ig- 
norance and  fear.  Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  can  it 
be  fairly  affirmed  that  ours  is  eminently  an  age  of  re- 
ligious enthusiasm.  Yet  as  there  are  superstitions 
which  maintain  a  feeble  existence  under  favor  of  the 
respect  naturally  paid  to  antiquity;  so  are  there  also 
among  us  enthusiastic  principles  and  practices,  which 
having  been  generated  in  a  period  of  greater  excite- 
ment than  our  own,  are  preserved  as  they  were  re- 
ceived from  "the  fathers;"  and  seem  to  be  in  safe 
course  of  tradition  to  the  next  generation. 

But  even  if  it  should  appear  that — excepting  in- 
dividual instances  of  constitutional  extravagance, 


24 


ENTHUSIASM, 


which  it  would  be  absurd  becnusc  useless  to  make 
the  subject  of  serious  animadversion — enthusiasm 
is  not  now  justly  chargeable  upon  any  body  of  Chris- 
tians, there  would  still  be  a  very  sufficient  reason 
fur  attempting  to  fix  the  true  import  of  the  term, 
so  long  as  it  is  vaguely  and  contumeliously  applied 
by  many  to  every  degree  of  fervor  in  religion  which 
seems  to  condemn  their  own  indifference.  Not  in- 
deed as  if  there  were  ground  to  hope  that  even  the 
most  exact  and  unexceptionable  analysis,  or  the 
clearest  definitions,  would  ever  avail  so  to  distin- 
guish genuine  from  spurious  piety  as  should  compel 
irreligious  men  to  acknowledge  that  the  difference 
is  realj  for  such  persons  feel  it  to  be  indispensable 
to  the  slumber  of  conscience  to  confound  the  one 
with  the  other:  and  though  a  thousand  times  refuted, 
they  will  again,  when  pressed  by  truth  and  reason, 
run  to  the  old  and  crasy  sophism,  which  pretends 
that  because  Christianity  is  sometimes  disfigured  by 
entliusiasts  and  fanatics,  therefore  there  is  neither 
retribution  nor  immortality  for  man. — It  is  the  in- 
fatuation of  persons  of  a  certain  character  to  live 
always  at  variance  with  wisdom  on  account  of  other 
men's  follies;  and  this  is  the  deplorable  error  of  those 
who  will  see  nothing  in  religion  but  its  corruptions. 
Nevertheless  truth  owes  always  a  vindication  of  her- 
self to  her  friends,  if  not  to  her  enemies;  and  her  sin- 
cere friends  will  not  wish  to  screen  their  own  errors 
when  this  vindication  requires  them  to  be  exposed. 
If,  as  is  implied  in  some  common  modes  of  speak- 
ingj  enthusiasm    were  only  an  error  of  degree — a 


SECULAR   AND    RELIGIOUS.  25 

mere  fault  by  excess,  then  the  attempt  to  establish  a 
definite  distinction  between  what  is  blame  worthy 
and  what  is  commendable  in  the  religious  affections 
— between  the  maximum  and  minimum  of  emotion 
which  sobriety  approves,  must  be  both  hopeless  and 
fruitless;  because  we  should  need  a  scale  adapted  to 
every  man's  constitution:  for  the  very  same  amount 
of  fervor  which  may  be  only  natural  and  proper  to 
one  mind,  could  not  be  attained  by  another  without 
delirium  or  insanity;  and  if  this  notion  were  just, 
every  one  would  be  entitled  to  repel  the  charge  of 
either  apathy  or  enthusiasm;  and  while  one  might 
maintain,  that  if  he  were  to  admit  into  his  bosom  a 
single  degree  more  of  religious  fervor  than  he  act- 
ually feels,  he  should  become  an  enthusiast,  another 
might  offer  an  equally  reasonable  apology  for  the 
wildest  extravagances.  At  this  rate  the  real  offend- 
ers against  sober  piety  could  never  be  convicted  of 
their  fault;  and  in  allowing  such  a  principle  we 
should  only  authenticate  the  scorn  with  which  indif- 
ference loves  to  look  upon  sincerity. 

That  the  error  of  the  enthusiast  does  not  consist 
in  an  excess  merely  of  the  religious  emotions,  might 
be  argued  conclusively  on  the  ground  that  the  Scrip- 
tures— our  only  safe  guide  on  such  points — while 
they  are  replete  with  the  language  of  empassioned 
devotion,  and  while  they  contain  a  multitude  of 
urgent  and  explicit  exhortations,  tending  to  stim- 
ulate the  fervency  of  prayer,  offer  no  cautions  against 
any  such  supposed  excesses  of  piety. 
*3 


26 


ENTHUSIASM, 


But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  nothing  is  more  common 
than  to  meet  with  religionists  whose  opinions  and 
language  are  manifestly  deformed  by  enthusiasm, 
while  their  devotional  feelings  are  barely  tepid: — 
languor,  relaxation,  apathy,  not  less  than  extrava- 
gance, characterise  their  style  of  piety;  and  it  were 
quite  a  ludicrous  mistake  to  warn  such  persons  of 
the  danger  of  being  "religious  overmuch."  Yet  it 
must  be  granted  that  those  extremes  in  matters  of 
opinion  or  practice,  which  sometimes  render  even 
torpor  conspicuous  by  its  absurdities,  have  always 
originated  with  minds  susceptible  of  high  excite- 
ment. Enthusiasm  is  the  child  of  vivacious  temper- 
aments; but  when  once  produced,  it  spreads  almost 
as  readily  through  inert,  as  through  active  masses, 
and  shows  itself  to  be  altogether  separable  from  the 
ardor  or  turbulence  whence  it  sprang. 

To  depict  the  character  of  those  who  are  enthu- 
siasts by  physical  temperament,  is  then  a  matter  of 
much  less  importance  than  to  define  the  errors  which 
such  persons  propagate;  for,  in  the  first  place,  the 
originators  of  enthusiasm  are  few,  and  the  parties 
infected  by  it  many;  and  in  the  second,  the  evil  with 
the  latter  is  incidental,  and,  therefore,  may  be  reme- 
died; while  with  the  former,  as  it  is  constitutional,  it 
is  hardly  in  any  degree  susceptible  of  correction. 

The  examination  of  a  few  principal  points  will 
make  it  evident  that  a  very  intelligible  distinction 
may,  without  difficulty,  be  established  between  what 
is  genuine  and  what  is  spurious  in  religious  feeling; 
and  when  an  object  so  important  is  before  us,  we 


SECULAR    AND    RELIGIOUS.  27 

ought  not  to  heed  the  injudicious,  and  perhaps  sinis- 
ter, delicacy  of  some  persons  who  had  rather  that 
truth  should  remain  for  ever  sullied  by  corruptions, 
and  exposed  to  the  contempt  of  worldlings,  than 
that  themselves  should  be  disturbed  in  their  narrow 
and  long-cherished  modes  of  thinking.  And  yet 
there  are  some  lesser  misconceptions  which,  perhaps, 
it  is  more  wise  to  leave  untouched,  than  to  attempt 
to  correct  them  at  the  cost  of  breaking  up  habits  of 
thought  and  modes  of  speaking  which  have  connect- 
ed themselves  indissolubly  with  truths  of  vital  im- 
portance. It  should  also  be  granted,  that  when  ex- 
planations or  illustrations  of  momentous  doctrines 
seem  at  all  to  endanger  the  simplicity  of  our  reli- 
ance upon  the  inartificial  declarations  of  Scripture, 
they  are  much  better  abandoned  at  once — though 
in  themselves,  perhaps,  justifiable — than  maintain- 
ed, if  in  doing  so  we  are  seduced  from  the  direct 
light  of  revelation  into  the  dim  regions  of  philo- 
sophical abstraction. 

Christianity  has  in  some  short  periods  of  its  his- 
tory been  entirely  dissociated  from  philosophical 
modes  of  thought  and  expression:  and  assuredly  it 
has  prospered  in  such  periods.  At  other  times  it 
has  scarcely  been  seen  at  all,  except  in  the  garb  of 
metaphysical  discussion,  and  then  it  has  lost  all  its 
vigor  and  glory.  In  the  present  state  of  the  world 
the  primitive  insulation  of  religious  truth  from  the 
philosophical  style  is  scarcely  practicable;  nor  does 
it  seem  so  desirable  while,  happily,  we  are  in  no 
danger  of  seeing  the  light  of  revelation  again  im- 


28  SECULAR    AND    RELIGIOUS. 

mured  in  colleges.  But  although  it  is  inevitable — 
and  perhaps  not  to  be  regretted — that  religious  sub- 
jects, both  doctrinal  and  practical,  should,  especial- 
ly in  books,  admit  such  generalities,  every  sober- 
minded  writer  will  remember  that  it  is  not  by  an  in- 
trinsic and  permanent  necessity,  but  by  a  tempo- 
rary concession  to  the  spirit  of  the  age,  that  this 
style  is  used  and  allowed.  He  will,  moreover,  bear 
in  mind  that  the  concession  leans  towards  a  side  of 
danger,  and  will,  therefore,  always  hold  himself 
ready  to  break  off  from  even  the  most  pleasing  or 
plausible  speculation,  when  his  Christian  instincts — 
if  the  phrase  may  be  permitted,  give  him  warning 
that  he  is  going  remote  from  the  vital  atmosphere  of 
scriptural  truth.  Whatever  is  practically  important 
in  religion  or  morals  may  at  all  times  be  advanced 
and  argued  in  the  simplest  terms  of  colloquial  ex- 
pression. From  the  pulpit,  perhaps,  no  other  style 
should  at  any  time  be  heard;  for  the  pulpit  belongs 
to  the  poor  and  the  uninstructed.  But  the  press  is 
not  bound  by  the  same  conditions,  for  it  is  an  instru- 
ment of  knowledge  foreign  to  the  authenticated 
means  of  Christian  instruction.  A  writer  and  a  lay- 
man is  not  a  recognised  functionary  in  the  Church; 
he  may,  therefore,  choose  his  style  without  violating 
any  rules  or  proprieties  of  office. 


SECTION  ir. 

ENTHUSIASM   IN    DEVOTION. 


The    most  formal  and  lifeless    devotions,  not  less 
than  the  most  fervent,  are  mere  enthusiasm,  unless;jt 
be    ascertained,  on  satisfactory  grounds,  that  such 
exercises  are  indeed  efficient  means  for  promoting 
our  welfare.     Prayer  is  impiety,  and  praise  a  folly, 
if  the  one  be  not  a  real  instrument  of  obtaining  im- 
portant benefits,  and  the  other  an  authorised  and 
acceptable  offering  to  the  Giver  of  all  good.     But 
when  once  these  points  are  determined — and  they 
are  necessarily  involved  in  the  truths  of  Christianity 
— then,  whatever  improprieties  may  be  chargeable 
upon  the  devout,  an  error  of  incomparably  greater 
magnitude    rests   with   the    undevout.     To   err    in 
modes  of  prayer  may  be  reprehensible^  but  not  to 
pray,  is  mad.     And  when   those   whose  temper   is 
abhorrent  to  religious  services  animadvert  sarcas- 
tically upon  the  follies,  real  or  supposed,  of  religion- 
ists, there  is  a  sad  inconsistency  in  such  criticisms 
like  that  which  is  seen  when  the  insane  make  ghast- 
ly mirth  of  the  manners  or  personal  defects  of  their 
friends  and  keepers. 


30  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

The  doctrine  of  immortality,  as  revealed  in  the 
Scriptures,  gives  at  once  reason  and  force  to  devo- 
tion; for  if  the  interests  of  the  present  life  only  were 
taken  into  calculation,  the  utility  of  prayer  could 
scarcely  be  proved,  and  never  be  made  conspicuous. 
As  a  matter  of  feeling,  it  is  only  the  expectation  of 
a  more  direct  and  sensible  intercourse  with  the 
Supreme  Being  in  a  future  life,  that  imparts  depth 
and  energy  to  the  sentiments  which  fill  the  mind  in 
its  approaches  to  the  throne  of  the  heavenly  Majesty. 
But  the  man  of  earth,  who  thinks  himself  rich  when 
he  has  enjoyed  the  delights  of  seventy  summers, 
and  who  deems  the  hope  of  eternity  to  be  of  less 
value  than  an  hour  of  riotous  sensuality,  can  never 
desire  to  penetrate  the  veil  of  second  causes,  or  to 
"find  out  the  Almighty:" — glad  to  snatch  the  boons 
of  the  present  life,  he  covets  no  knowledge  of  the 
Giver. 

Not  so  those  into  whose  hearts  the  belief  of  a 
future  life — of  such  a  future  life  as  Christianity  de- 
picts, has  entered.  They  feel  that  the  promised 
bliss  cannot  possibly  spring  from  an  atheistic  satiety 
of  animal  or  even  of  intellectual  pleasures;  but  that 
the  substance  of  it  must  consist  in  communion  with 
Him  who  is  the  source  and  centre  of  good.  This 
belief  and  expectation  sheds  vigor  through  the  soul 
while  engaged  in  exercises  of  devotion;  for  such 
employments  are  known  to  be  the  preparatives,  and 
the  foretastes,  and  the  earnests  of  the  expected  "ful- 
ness of  joy."  The  only  idea  which  the  human  mind, 
under  its  present  limitations,  can  form  of  a  pure  and 


ENTHUSIASM  IN    DEVOTION.  31 

perpetual  felicity,  free  from  all  elements  of  decay 
and  corruption,  is  that  which  it  gathers  and  com- 
pounds from  devotional  sentiments.  In  cherishing 
and  expressing  these  sentiments,  we  grasp,  therefore, 
the  substance  of  immortal  delights,  and  by  an  affin- 
ity of  the  heart  hold  fast  the  unutterable  hope  set 
before  us  in  the  Scriptures.  The  Scriptures  being 
admitted  as  the  word  of  God,  this  intensity  of  devo- 
tional feeling  is  exempted  from  all  blame  or  suspic- 
ion; nor  can  it  ever  be  shown  that  the  very  highest 
pitch  of  such  feelings  is  in  itself  excessive  or  unrea- 
sonable. The  mischiefs  of  enthusiasm  arise,  not 
from  the  force  or  fervor,  but  from  the  perversion  of 
the  religious  affections. 

The  very  idea  of  addressing  petitions  to  Him  who 
"worketh  all  things"  according  to  the  counsel  of  His 
own  eternal  and  unalterable  will,  and  the  enjoined 
practice  of  clothing  sentiments  of  piety  in  articulate 
forms  of  language,  though  those  sentiments,  before 
they  are  invested  in  words,  are  perfectly  known  to 
the  Searcher  of  hearts,  imply  that,  in  the  terms  and 
the  mode  of  intercourse  between  God  and  man,  no 
attempt  is  made  to  lift  the  latter  above  his  sphere  of 
limited  notions  and  imperfect  knowledge.  The 
terms  of  devotional  communion  rest  even  on  a  much 
lower  ground  than  that  which  man,  by  efforts  of 
reason  and  imagination,  might  attain  to.  Prayer,  in 
its  very  conditions,  supposes,  not  only  a  condescen- 
sion of  the  Divine  nature  to  meet  the  human,  but  a 
humbling  of  the  human  nature  to  a  lower  range 


32  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

than  it  might  easily  reach.  The  region  of  abstract 
conceptions — of  lofty  reasonings — of  magnificent 
images,  has  an  atmosphere  too  subtle  to  support  the 
health  of  true  piety;  and  in  order  that  the  warmth 
and  vigor  of  life  may  be  maintained  in  the  heart, 
the  common  level  of  the  natural  affections  is  chosen 
as  the  scene  of  intercourse  between  Heaven  and 
earth.  In  accordance  with  this  plan  of  devotion, 
not  only  does  the  Supreme  conceal  Himself  from 
our  senses,  but  He  reveals  in  His  word  barely  a 
glimpse  of  His  essential  glories.  By  some  naked 
affirmations  we  are  indeed  secured  against  false  and 
grovelling  notions  of  the  Divine  nature;  but  these 
hints  are  incidental,  and  so  scanty,  that  every  excur- 
sive mind  goes  far  beyond  them  in  its  conceptions 
of  the  infinite  attributes. 

Nor  is  it  only  the  brightness  of  the  Eternal  throne 
that  is  shrouded  from  the  view  of  those  who  are  in- 
vited to  draw  near  to  Him  that  "sitteth  thereon;" 
for  the  immeasurable  distance  that  separates  man 
from  his  Maker  is  carefully  veiled  by  the  conceal- 
ment of  the  intervening  orders  of  rational  beings. 
Though  the  fact  of  such  superior  existences  is  clear- 
ly affirmed,  nothing  more  than  the  bare  fact  is  im- 
parted; and  we  cannot  misunderstand  the  reason  and 
necessity  of  so  much  reserve;  for  without  it  those 
free  and  kindly  movements  of  the  heart  in  which 
genuine  devotion  consists,  would  be  overborne  by 
impressions  of  a  kind  that  belong  to  the  invagina- 
tion. Distance  is  understood  only  by  the  percep- 
tion of  intermediate  objects.     The   traveller  who, 


ENTHUSIAM    IN    DEVOTION.  33 

with  weary  steps,  has  passed  from  one  extremity  to 
the  other  of  a  continent,  and  whose  memory  is 
fraught  with  the  recollection  of  the  various  scenes 
of  the  journey,  is  qualified  to  attach  a  distinct  idea 
to  the  higher  terms  of  measurement;  but  the  notion 
of  extended  space,  formed  by  those  who  iiave  never 
passed  the  boundary  of  their  native  province,  is 
vague  and  unreal.  Such  are  the  notions  which, 
with  all  the  aids  of  astronomy  and  arithmetic,  we 
form  of  the  distances  even  of  the  nearest  of  the 
heavenly  bodies.  But  if  the  traveller,  who  has  ac- 
tually looked  upon  the  ten  thousand  successive  land- 
scapes that  lie  between  the  farthest  west  and  the  re- 
motest east,  could,  with  a  sustained  effort  of  mem- 
ory and  imagination,  hold  all  those  scenes  in  recol- 
lection, and  repeat  the  voluminous  idea  with  distinct 
reiteration  until  the  millions  of  millions  were  num- 
bered that  separate  sun  from  sun;  and  if  the  notion 
thus  laboriously  obtained,  could  be  vividly  supported 
and  transferred  to  the  pathless  spaces  of  the  uni- 
verse, then,  that  prospect  of  distant  systems  which 
night  opens  before  us,  instead  of  exciting  mild  and 
pleasurable  emotions  of  admiration,  would  rather 
oppress  the  imagination  under  a  painful  sense  of  the 
measured  interval.  If  the  eye,  when  it  fixes  its  gaze 
upon  the  vault  of  heaven,  could  see,  in  fancy,  a 
causeway  arched  across  the  void  and  bordered  in 
long  series  with  the  hills  and  plains  of  an  earthly 
journey — repeated  ten  thousand  and  ten  thousand 
times,  until  ages  were  spent  in  the  pilgrimage,  then 
would  he,  who  possessed  such  a  power  of  visio, 
4 


34  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

hide  himself  in  caverns  rather  than  venture  to  look 
up  to  the  terrible  magnitude  of  the  starry  skies, 
thus  set  out  in  parts  before  him. 

And  yet  the  utmost  distances  of  the  material  uni- 
verse are  finite;  but  the  disparity  of  nature  which 
separates  man  from  his  Maker  is  infinite;  nor  can  the 
interval  be  filled  up  or  brought  under  any  process 
of  measurement.  Nevertheless,  in  the  view  of  our 
feeble  conceptions,  an  apparent  measurement  or  fill- 
ing up  of  the  infinite  void  would  take  place,  and  so 
the  idea  of  immense  separation  would  be  painfully 
enhanced,  if  distinct  vision  were  obtained  of  the 
towering  hierarchy  of  intelligences  at  the  basement 
of  which  the  human  system  is  founded.  Were  it 
indeed  permitted  to  man  to  gaze  upward  from  step 
to  step,  and  from  range  to  range,  of  the  vast  edifice 
of  rational  existences,  and  could  his  eye  attain  its 
summit,  and  then  perceive,  at  an  infinite  height  be- 
yond that  highest  platform  of  created  beings,  the 
lowest  steps  of  the  Eternal  throne — what  liberty  of 
heart  would  afterwards  be  left  to  him  in  drawing 
near  to  the  Father  of  spirits.^*  How,  after  such  a 
revelation  of  the  upper  world,  could  the  affection- 
ate cheerfulness  of  earthly  worship  again  take  place? 
— Or,  how,  while  contemplating  the  measured  vast- 
ness  of  the  interval  between  heaven  and  earth,  could 
the  dwellers  thereon  come  familiarly,  as  before,  to 
the  Hearer  of  prayer,  bringing  with  them  the  small 
requests  of  their  petty  interests  of  the  present  life? 
If  introduction  were  had  to  the  society  of  those  be- 
ings whose  wisdom  has  accumulated  during  ages 


ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION.  35 

which  Time  forgets  to  number,  and  who  have  lived 
to  see,  once  and  again,  the  mystery  of  the  provi- 
dence of  God  complete  its  cycle,  would  not  the  im- 
pression of  created  superiority  oppress  the  spirit,  and 
obstruct  its  access  to  the  Being  whose  excellencies 
are  absolute  and  infinite?  Or  what  would  be  the 
feelings  of  the  infirm  child  of  earth,  if,  when  about 
to  present  his  supplications,  he  found  himself  stand- 
ing in  the  theatre  of  heaven,  and  saw,  ranged  in  a 
circle  wider  than  the  skies,  the  congregation  of  im- 
mortals? These  spectacles  of  greatness,  if  laid 
open  to  perception,  would  present  such  an  intermin- 
able perspective  of  glory,  and  so  set  out  the  im- 
measurable distance  between  ourselves  and  the  Su- 
preme Being  with  a  long  gradation  of  splendors, 
that  we  should  hence-forward  feel  as  if  thrust  down 
to  an  extreme  remoteness  from  the  divine  notice; 
and  it  would  be  hard  or  impossible  to  retain,  with 
any  comfortable  conviction,  the  belief  in  the  near- 
ness of  Him  who  is  revealed  as  "a  very  present  help 
in  every  time  of  trouble."  But  that  our  feeble 
spirits  may  not  thus  be  overborne,  or  our  faith  and 
confidence  baflled  and  perplexed,  the  Most  High 
hides  from  our  sight  the  ministries  of  his  court,  and, 
dismissing  his  train,  visits  with  infinite  condescen- 
sion the  lowly  abodes  of  those  who  fear  Him,  and 
dwells  as  a  Father  in  the  homes  of  earth. 

Every  ambitious  attempt  to  break  through  the 
humbling  conditions  on  which  man  may  hold  com- 
munion with  God,  must  then  fail  of  success;  since 
the  Supreme  has  fixed  the  scene  of  worship  and  con- 


30  KNTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

verse,  not  in  the  skies,  but  on  earth.  The  Scrip- 
ture models  of  devotion,  far  from  encouraging  vague 
and  inarticulate  contemplations,  consist  of  such 
utterances  of  desire,  or  hope,  or  love,  as  seem  to 
suppose  the  existence  of  correlative  feelings,  and  of 
every  human  sympathy  in  Him  to  whom  they  are 
addressed.  And  though  reason  and  Scripture  as- 
sure us  that  He  neither  needs  to  be  informed  of  our 
wants,  nor  waits  to  be  moved  by  our  supplications, 
yet  will  He  be  approached  with  the  eloquence  of 
importunate  desire,  and  He  demands,  not  only  a 
sincere  feeling  of  indigence  and  dependance,  but 
an  undissembled  zeal  and  diligence  in  seeking  the 
desired  boons  by  persevering  request-  He  is  to  be 
supplicated  with  arguments  as  one  who  needs  to  be 
swayed  and  moved,  to  be  wrought  upon  and  influ- 
enced; nor  is  any  alternative  offered  to  those  who 
would  present  themselves  at  the  throne  of  heavenly 
grace,  or  any  exception  made  in  favor  of  superior 
spirits,  whose  more  elevated  notions  of  the  divine 
perfections  may  render  this  accommodated  style 
distasteful.  As  the  Hearer  of  prayer  stoops  to  listen, 
so  also  must  the  suppliant  stoop  from  the  heights  of 
philosophical  or  meditative  abstractions,  and  either 
come  in  genuine  simplicity  of  petition,  as  a  son  to  a 
father,  or  be  utterly  excluded  from  the  friendship  of 
his  Maker. 

This  scriptural  system  of  devotion  stands  opposed 
then  to  all  those  false  sublimities  of  an  enthusiastic 
pietism  which  affect  to  lift  man  into  a  middle  region 
between  heaven  and  earth,  ere  he  may  think  him- 


ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION.  37 

self  admitted  to  hold  communion  with  God.  While 
the  inflated  devotee  is  soaring  into  he  knows  not 
what  vagueness  of  upper  space,  He  whom  "the  hea- 
ven of  heavens  cannot  contain,"  has  come  down, 
and  with  benign  condescension,  has  placed  himself 
in  the  centre  of  the  little  circle  of  human  ideas  and 
affections.  The  man  of  imaginative,  or  of  hyper- 
rational  piety,  is  gone  in  contemplation  where  God 
is  notj  or  where  man  shall  never  meet  him:  for  "the 
high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity,  whose 
name  is  holy,  and  who  dwelleth  in  the  high  and  holy 
place,"  when  he  invites  us  to  his  friendship,  holds 
the  splendor  of  his  natural  perfections  in  abeyance, 
and  proclaims  that  "He  dwells  with  the  man  who  is 
of  a  humble  and  contrite  spirit,  to  revive  the  spirit 
of  the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the  con- 
trite ones."  Thus  does  the  piety  taught  in  the 
Scriptures  make  provision  against  the  vain  exag- 
gerations of  enthusiasm;  and  thus  does  it  give  free 
play  to  the  affections  of  the  heart;  while  whatever 
might  stimulate  the  imagination  is  enveloped  in  the 
thickest  covering  of  obscurity. 

The  outward  forms  and  observances  of  worship 
are  manifestly  intended  to  discourage  and  exclude 
the  false  refinements  of  an  imaginative  piety,  and 
to  give  to  the  religious  affections  a  mundane,  rather 
than  a  transcendental  character.  The  congregated 
worshippers  come  into  "the  house  of  God" — the 
hall  or  court  of  audience,  on  the  terms  o{  human  asso- 
ciation, and  by  explicit  invitation  from  Him  who  de- 
clares, that  "wheresoever  two  or  three  are  gathered 
H 


38  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

together  in  his  name,  there  He  is"  to  meet  them. 
And  being  so  assembled,  as  in  the  actual  presence 
of  the  "King  of  saints,"  they  give  utterance  to  the 
emotions  of  love,  veneration,  hope,  joy,  penitence, 
in  all  those  modes  of  outward  expression,  which  are 
at  once  proper  to  the  constitution  of  human  nature, 
and  proper  to  be  addressed  to  a  being  of  kindred 
character  and  sympathies-  Worship  is  planned 
altogether  in  adaptation  to  the  limitations  of  the  in- 
ferior party,  not  in  proportion  to  the  infinitude  of 
the  superior: — even  the  worship  of  heaven  must  be 
framed  on  the  same  principle;  for  how  high  soever 
we  ascend  in  the  scale  of  created  intelligence,  still 
the  finite  can  never  surmount  its  boundaries,  or  at 
all  adapt  itself  to  the  infinite.  But  the  infinite  may 
always  bow  to  the  finite.  Those,  therefore,  who, 
blown  up  with  the  vapors  of  enthusiasm,  contemn 
and  neglect  the  modes  and  style  of  worship  proper 
to  humanity,  must  find  that,  though  indulgence  is 
given  to  their  affectation  on  earth,  there  can  be  no 
room  allowed  it  in  heaven. 

The  dispensations  of  the  divine  providence  to- 
wards the  pious,  have  the  same  tendency  to  confine 
the  devout  affections  within  the  circle  of  terrestrial 
ideas,  and  to  make  religion  always  an  occupant  of 
the  homestead  of  common  feelings.  "Many  are 
the  afflictions  of  the  righteous,"  and  wherefore,  but 
to  bring  his  religious  belief  and  emotions  in  close 
contact  with  the  humiliations  of  animal  life,  and 
to  necessitate  the  use  of  prayer  as  a  real  and  effi- 
cient means  of  obtaining  needful  assistance  in  dis- 


KNTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION.  39 

tress?  If  vague  speculations  or  delicious  illusions 
have  carried  the  Christian  away  from  the  realities 
of  earth,  urgent  wants  or  piercing  sorrows  present- 
ly arouse  him  from  his  dreams,  and  oblige  him  to 
come  back  to  the  importunacy  of  prayer,  and  to  the 
simplicity  of  praise.  A  strange  incongruity  may 
seem  to  present  itself,  when  the  sons  of  God — the 
heirs  of  immortality — the  destined  princes  of  hea- 
ven, are  seen  implicated  in  sordid  cares,  and  vexed 
and  oppressed  by  the  perplexities  of  a  moment; 
but  this  incongruity  is  only  perceived  when  the 
great  facts  of  religion  are  viewed  in  the  false 
light  of  the  imagination;  for  the  process  of  prepara- 
tion, far  from  being  incompatible  with  these  ap- 
parent degradations,  requires  them;  and  it  is  by 
such  means  of  humiliation  that  the  hope  of  im- 
mortality is  bound  down  in  the  heart,  and  prevent- 
ed from  floating  in  the  region  of  material  images. 
We  have  said,  that  when  an  important  object 
is  zealously  pursued  in  the  use  of  means  proper 
for  its  attainment,  a  mere  intensity  or  fervor  of 
feeling  does  not  constitute  enthusiasm.  If,  there- 
fore, prayer  has  a  lawful  object,  whether  temporal 
or  spiritual,  and  is  used  in  humble  confidence  of  its 
efficiency  as  a  means  of  obtaining  the  desired  boon, 
or  some  equivalent  blessing,  there  is  nothing  unreal 
in  the  employment;  and,  therefore,  nothing  enthusi- 
astic. But  there  are  devotional  exercises  which, 
though  they  assume  the  style  and  phrases  of  prayer, 
have  no  other  object  than  to  attain  the  immediate 
pleasures  of  excitement.     The  devotee   is  not  in 


40  ENTHUSIASM    IN   DEVOTION. 

truth  a  petitioner,  for  his  prayers  terminate  in  them- 
selves; and  if  he  reaches  the  expected  pitch  of  tran- 
sient emotion,  he  desires  nothing  more.     This  appe- 
tite for  feverish  agitations  naturally  prompts  a  qu-est 
of  whatever  is  exorbitant  in  expression  or  sentiment, 
and  as  naturally  inspires  a  dread  of  all  those  sub- 
jects of  meditation  which  tend  to  abate  the  pulse  of 
the  moral  system.     If  the  language  of  humiliation 
is  at  all  admitted  into  the  enthusiast's  devotions,  it 
must  be  so  pointed  with  extravagance,  and  so  blown 
out  with  exaggerations,  that  it  serves  much  more  to 
tickle  the  fancy  than  to  affect  the  heart:  it  is  a  bur- 
lesque of  penitence,  very  proper  to  amuse  a  mind 
that  is  destitute  of  real  contrition.     That  such  arti- 
ficial humiliations  do  not  spring  from  the  sorrow 
of  repentance,   is   proved   by    their  bringing  with 
them  no  lowliness   of  temper.     Genuine   humility 
would  shake  the  whole  towering  structure  of  this 
enthusiastic  pietism;  and,  therefore,  in  the  place  of 
Christian  humbleness  of  mind,  there  are  cherished 
certain   ineffable   notions  of  self-annihilation,  and 
self-renunciation,  and  we  know  not  what  other  at- 
tempts at  metaphysical  suicide.     If  you  receive  the 
enthusiast's  description  of  himself,  he  has  become, 
in    his   own   esteem,  by  continued    force   of  divine 
contemplation,  infinitely  less  than  an  atom — a  very 
negative  quality— an  incalculable  fraction  of  posi- 
tive entity:  meanwhile  the  whole  of  his  deportment 
betrays  the  sensitiveness  of  a  self-importance  ample 
enough  for  a  god. 

Minds  of  a  superior  order,  and  refined  by  culture, 
may  be  full  fraught  with  enthusiasm  without  exhibit- 


ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION.  41 

ing  any  very  reprehensible  extravagances:  for  taste 
and  intelligence  conceal  the  offensiveness  of  error 
as  well  as  of  vice.     But  it  will  not  be  so  with  the 
gross   and    the   uneducated.     These,    if    they    are 
taught  to  neglect  the  substantial  purposes  of  prayer, 
and  are  encouraged  to  seek  chiefly  the  gratifications 
of  excitement,  will  hardly  refrain  from  the  utterance 
of  discontent,  when  they  fail  of  success.     Whatever 
physical  or  accidental  cause  may  oppress  the  animal 
spirits,  and  frustrate  the  attempt  to  reach  the  desired 
pitch  of  emotion,  gives  occasion  to  some    sort  of 
querulous  altercation  with  the  Supreme  Being,  or  to 
some   disguised  imputations  of  caprice  on  the  part 
of  Him  who  is  supposed  to  have  withheld  the  ex- 
pected spiritual  influence.     Thus  the  divine  conde- 
scension in  holding  intercourse   with  man  on  the 
level  of  friendship,  is  abused  in  this  wantonness  of 
irreverence;  and  the  very  same  temper  which  impels 
a  man  of  vulgar  manners,  when  disappointed  in  his 
suit,  to  turn  upon  his  superior  with  rude  opprobri- 
ums, is,  in  its  degree,  indulged  towards  the  Majesty 
of  heaven.     "Thou  thoughtest  that  I  was  altogether 
such  an  one  as  thyself,"  is  a  rebuke  which  belongs 
to  those  who  thus  aftVont  the  Most  High  with  the 
familiarities  of  common  companionship.     We  say 
not  that  flagrant  abuses  of  this  kind  are  of  frequent 
occurrence,  even  among  the  uneducated;  yet  neither 
are  they  quite  unknown.     A  perceptible  tendency 
towards  them  always  accompanies  the  enthusiastic 
notion  that  the  principal  part  of  piety  is  excitement. 
The  substitution  of  the  transient  and  unreal,  for 
the  real  and  enduring  objects  of  prayer,  brings  with 


42  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

it  often  that  sort  of  ameliorated  mysticism  which 
consists  in  a  solicitous  dissection  of  the  changing 
emotions  of  the  religious  life,  and  in  a  sickly  sensi- 
tiveness, which  serves  only  to  divert  attention  from 
what  is  important  in  practical  virtue.  There  are 
anatomists  of  piety  who  destroy  all  the  freshness 
and  vigor  of  faith  and  hope  and  charity,  by  immur- 
ing themselves,  night  and  day,  in  the  infected  atmos- 
phere of  their  own  bosoms.  Let  a  man  of  warm 
heart,  who  is  happily  surrounded  with  the  dear  ob- 
jects of  the  social  affections,  try  the  effect  of  a 
parallel  practice; — let  him  institute  anxious  scruti- 
nies of  his  feelings  towards  those  whom,  hitherto, 
he  has  believed  himself  to  regard  with  unfeigned 
love; — let  him  use  in  these  inquiries  all  the  fine 
distinctions  of  a  casuist,  and  all  the  profound  ana- 
lyses of  a  metaphysician,  and  spend  hours  daily  in 
pulling  asunder  every  complex  emotion  of  tender- 
ness that  has  given  grace  to  the  domestic  life;  and, 
moreover,  let  him  journalize  these  examinations,  and 
note  particularly,  and  with  the  scrupulosity  of  an 
accomptant,  how  much  of  the  mass  of  his  kindly 
sentiments  he  has  ascertained  to  consist  of  genuine 
love,  and  how  much  was  selfishness  in  disguise;  and 
let  him,  from  time  to  time,  solemnly  resolve  to  be, 
in  future,  more  disinterested  and  less  hypocritical  in 
his  affection  towards  his  family.  What,  at  the  end 
of  a  year,  would  be  the  result  of  such  a  process? 
What,  but  a  wretched  debility  and  dejection  of  the 
heart,  and  a  strangeness  and  a  sadness  of  the  man- 
ners, and  a  suspension  of  the  native  expressions  and 


ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION.  43 

ready  offices  of  zealous  affection?  Meanwhile  the 
hesitations  and  the  musings,  and  the  upbraidings  of 
an  introverted  sensibility  absorb  the  thoughts.  Is 
it,  then,  reasonable  to  presume  that  similar  practices 
in  religion  can  have  a  tendency  to  promote  the 
healthful  vigor  of  piety? 

By  the  constitution  of  the  human  mind,  its  emo- 
tions are  strengthened  in  no  other  way  than  by  ex- 
ercise and  utterance;   nor  does  it  appear   that   the 
religious  emotions  are  exempted  from  this  general 
law.     The  Divine   Being  is  revealed  to  us  in  the 
Scriptures  as  the  proper  and  supreme  object  of  rev- 
erence, of  love,  and  of  affectionate  obedience;  and 
the  natural  means  of  exercising  and  of  expressing 
these  feelings  are  placed    before    us,  both    in   the 
offices   of  devotion,   and  in  the    duties  of  life; — 
just    in   the  same    way    that   the   opportunities   of 
enhancing  the  domestic  affections  are  afforded  in 
the  constitution   of  social  life.     Why,  then,  should 
the  Christian  turn  aside  from  the  course  of  nature, 
and  divert  his  feelings  from  their  outgoings  towards 
the  supreme  object  of  devotional  sentiments,  by  in- 
stituting curious  researches  into  the    quality  and 
quantity  and  composition  of  all  his  religious  sensa- 
tions?    This  spiritual  hypochondriasis  enfeebles  at 
once  the  animal,  the  intellectual  and  the  moral  life, 
and  is  usually  found  in  conjunction  with  infirmity  of 
judgment,  infelicity  of  temper,  and  inconsistency  of 
conduct. 

But  it  is  alleged  that  the  heart,  even  after  it  has 
undergone  spiritual  renovation,  is  fraught  with  hid- 


44  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

den  evils  which  mingle  their  influence  with  every 
emotion  of  the  new  life,  and  that  an  incessant  ana- 
lysis is  necessary  in  order  to  detect  and  to  separate 
the  lurking  mischiefs. — To  know  the  evils  of  the 
heart  is  indeed  indispensable  to  the  humility  and 
the  caution  of  true  wisdom;  and  whoever  is  utterly 
untaught  in  this  dismal  branch  of  learning  is  a  fool. 
But  to  make  it  the  chief  object  of  attention  is  not 
only  unnecessary,  but  fatal  to  the  health  of  the  soul. 
The  motives  of  the  social,  not  less  than  those  of 
the  religious  life,  are  open  to  corrupting  mixtures, 
which  spoil  their  purity,  and  impair  their  vigor.  As, 
for  example,  the  emotion  of  benevolence  which  im- 
pels us  to  go  in  quest  of  misery,  and  to  labor  and 
suffer  for  its  relief,  is  liable,  in  most  men's  minds, 
to  be  alloyed  by  some  particles  of  the  desire  of  ap- 
plause; indeed  there  are  nice  and  learned  anatomists 
of  the  heart,  who  assure  us  that  benevolence,  when 
placed  in  the  focus  of  high  optic  powers,  exhibits 
nothing  but  a  gay  feathery  coat  of  vanity,  set  upon 
the  flimsiness  of  selfish  sensibility.  Be  it  so — and 
let  men  of  small  souls  amuse  themselves  with  these 
pretty  discoveries.  But  assuredly  the  philanthro- 
pist who  is  followed  through  life  by  the  blessings  of 
those  "that  were  ready  to  perish,"  and  whose  memory 
goes  down  in  the  fragrance  of  these  blessings  to  dis- 
tant ages,  is  not  found  to  spend  his  days  and  nights  in 
pursuing  any  such  subtle  micrologics.  Have  the  sons 
of  wretchedness  been  holpen  by  Rochefoucaulds 
and  Bruyeres — or  by  Howards?  If  the  philanthro- 
pist be  a  wise  and  Christian  man,  he  will,  knowing  as 


ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION.  45 

he  does  the  evils  and  infirmities  of  the  heart,  en- 
deavor to  expel  and  preclude  the  corrupting  mis- 
chiefs that  spring  from  within,  by  giving  yet  larger 
play  and  action  to  the  great  motives  by  which  ex- 
clusively he  desires  to  be  impelled:  he  will,  with 
new  intentness,  devote  himself  to  the  service  in 
which  his  better  nature  delights,  and  bring  his  soul 
into  still  nearer  contact  with  its  chosen  objects,  and 
oblige  himself  to  hold  more  constant  communion 
with  the  miserable,  and  he  will  spurn,  with  reno- 
vated courage,  the  whispers  of  indolence  and  fear. 
Thus  he  pushes  forwards  on  the  course  of  action, 
where  alone,  by  the  unalterable  laws  of  human 
nature,  the  vigor  of  active  virtue  may  be  maintained 
and  increased. 

If  the  heart  be  a  dungeon  of  foul  and  vaporous 
poisons, — if  it  be  "a  cage  of  unclean  birds," — if 
"satyrs  dance  there," — if  the  "cockatrice"  there 
hatches  her  eggs  of  mischief,— let  the  vault  of  damp 
and  dark  impurity  be  thrown  open  to  the  purifying 
gales  of  heaven,  and  to  the  bright  shining  of  the  sun: 
so  shall  the  hated  occupants  leave  their  haunts,  and 
the  noxious  exhalations  be  exhausted,  and  the  death- 
ly chills  be  dispelled.  He,  surely,  need  not  want 
light  and  warmth  who  has  the  glories  of  heaven  be- 
fore him:  let  these  glories  be  contemplated  with  con- 
stant and  upward  gaze,  while  the  foot  presses  with 
energy  the  path  of  hope,  and  the  hand  is  busied  in 
every  office  of  charity.  The  Christian  who  thus 
pursues  his  way,  will  rarely,  if  ever,  be  annoyed  by 
5 


46  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

the  spectres  that  haunt  the  regions  of  a  saddened 
enthusiasm. 

The  moping  sentimentalism  which  so  often  takes 
the  place  of  Christian  motives,  is  to  be  avoided,  not 
merely  because  it  holds  up  piety  to  the  view  of  the 
world  under  a  deplorable  disguise;  nor  merely  be- 
cause it  deprives  its  victims  of  their   comfort;  but 
chiefly  because  it  ordinarily  produces  inattention  to 
the  substantial  matters  of  common  morality.     The 
mind,  occupied   from   dawn   of  day   till   midnight, 
with  its  own  multifarious  ailments,  and  busied  in 
studying  its  pathologies,  utterly  forgets,  or  remissly 
discharges,  the  duties  of  social  life:  or  the  temper, 
oppressed  by  vague  solicitudes,  falls   into  a  state 
which  makes  it  a  nuisance  in  the  house.     Or,  while 
the  rising  and  falling  temperature  of  the  spirit  is 
watched  and  recorded,  the  common  principles  of 
honor  and  integrity  are  so  completely  lost  sight  of, 
that,  without  explicit  ill-intention,  grievous  delin- 
quencies are  fallen  into,  which  bring  a  deluge  of 
reproach  upon  religion.     These  melancholy  perver- 
sions of  Christian  piety  might  seem  not  to  belong, 
with  strict  propriety,  to  our  subject;  but  in  fact  re- 
ligious despondency  is  the  child  of  religious  enthu- 
siasm.    Exhaustion  and  dejection  succeed  to  excite- 
ment, just  as  debility  follows  fever.     Yesterday  the 
unballasted  vessel   was   seen   hanging  out   all   the 
gaiety  of  its  colors,  and  spreading  wide  its  indiscre- 
tion before  a  breeze;  but  the  night  came,  the  breeze 
strengthened,  and  to-day  the  hapless  bark  rolls  dis- 
masted, without  help  or  hope,  over  the  billows. 


ENTHUSIASM   IN    DEVOTION.  47 

Amid  the  various  topics  touched  upon  by  Paul 
Petet,  John,  and  James,  we  scarcely  find  an  allusion 
to  those  questions  of  spiritual  nosology  which,  in 
later  periods,  and  especially  since  the  days  of  Au- 
gustine,* and  very  much  in  our  own  times,  have 
filled   a  large   space   in    religious   writings.     The 
Apostles  believed,  with  unclouded  confidence,  the 
revelation   committed  to  them  of  judgment  to  come 
— of  redemption  from  wrath  by  Jesus  Christ,  and 
of  eternal  glory:  these  great  facts  filled  their  hearts, 
and  governed  their  lives:  and,  in  conjunction  with 
the  precepts  of  morality,  were  the  exclusive  themes 
of  their   preaching   and   writing.     Evidently   they 
found  neither  time  nor  occasion  for  entering  upon 
nice  analyses  of  motives;  or  for  indulging  fine  mus- 
ings and  personal  melancholies;  nor  did  they  ever 
think  of  resting  the  all-important  question  of  their 
own  sincerity,  and  of  their  claim  to  a  part  in  the 
hope  of  the   gospel,  upon   the   abstract  dialectics 
which  have  since  been  thought  indispensable  to  the 
definition  of  a  saving  faith.     Assuredly   the  Chris- 
tians of  the  first  age  did  not  suppose  that  volumes  of 
metaphysical  distinctions  must  be  written  and  read 
before  the  genuineness  of  religious  professions  could 
be  ascertained.     The  want,  in  modern  times,  of  a 
vivid  conviction    of  the  truth    of  Christianity,  is, 
probably,  the   occasional  source   of  many  of  these 
idle  and  disheartening  subtilties;  and  it  may  be  be- 

*  The  metaph^sico-devoiional  "Confessions"  of  the  good  Bishop  of 
Hippo  may  perhaps  not  unfairly  be  placed  at  the  head  of  this  verypecu- 
Jiar  species  of  literature. 


48  ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION. 

lieved  that  a  sudden  enhancement  of  faith — using 
the  word  in  its  unsophisticated  meaning,  throughout 
the  Christian  community,  would  dispel,  in  a  moment, 
a  thousand  dismal  and  profitless  refinements,  and 
impart  to  the  feelings  of  Christians  that  unvarying 
solidity  which  naturally  belongs  to  the  perception 
of  facts  so  immensely  important  as  those  revealed 
in. the  Scriptures. 

In  witnessing,  first,  the  entreaties,  and  suppli- 
cations, and  tears,  of  a  convicted,  condemned, 
and  repentant  malefactor,  prostrate  at  the  feet  of 
his  sovereignj  and  then,  the  exuberance  of  his  joy 
and  gratitude  in  receiving  pardon  and  life,  no  one 
would  so  absurdly  misuse  language  as  to  call  the 
intensity  and  fervor  of  the  criminal's  feelings  en- 
thusiastical;  for  however  strong,  or  even  ungovern- 
able those  emotions  may  be,  they  are  perfectly  con- 
gruous with  the  occasion; — they  spring  from  no 
illusion;  but  are  fully  justified  by  the  momentous 
turn  that  has  taken  place  in  his  affairs: — in  the  past 
hour  he  contemplated  nothing  but  the  horrors  of  a 
violent,  an  ignominious,  and  a  deserved  death;  but 
now  life  and  its  delights  are  before  him.  It  is  true 
that  all  men  in  the  same  circumstances  would  not 
undergo  the  same  intensity  of  emotion;  but  all,  un- 
less obdurate  in  wickedness,  must  experience  feel- 
ings of  the  same  quality.  And  thus,  so  long  as  the 
real  circumstances  under  which  every  human  being 
stands  in  the  court  of  the  Supreme  Judge  are  clear- 
ly understood,  and  duly  felt,  enthusiasm  finds  no 


ENTHUSIASM    IN    DEVOTION.  49 

place:  all  is  real;  nothing  illusory.  But  when  once 
these  unutterably  important  facts  are  forgotten  or 
obscured,  then,  by  necessity,  every  enhancement  of 
religious  feeling  is  a  step  on  the  ascent  of  enthusi- 
asm; and  it  becomes  a  matter  of  very  little  practical 
consequence,  whether  the  deluded  pietist  is  the  wor- 
shipper of  some  system  of  abstract  rationalism,  or 
of  tawdry  images,  and  rotten  relics;  though  the 
latter  error  of  the  two  is,  perhaps,  preferable,  inas- 
much as  warm-hearted  fervor  is  always  better  than 
frozen  pride. 

One  commanding  subject  pervades  the  Scriptures, 
and  rises  to  view  on  every  page: — this  recurring 
theme,  towards  which  all  instructions  and  histories 
tend,  is  the  great  and  anxious  question  of  condem- 
nation or  acquittal  at  the  bar  of  God,  when  the 
irreversible  sentence  shall  come  to  be  pronounced. 
"How  shall  man  be  just  with  God,"  is  the  inquiry, 
ever  and  again  urged  upon  the  conscience  of  him 
who  reads  the  Bible  with  a  humble  and  teachable 
desire  to  find  therein  the  way  of  life.  In  subservi- 
ency to  this  leading  intention,  the  themes  which 
run  through  the  sacred  writings,  and  which  distin- 
guish those  writings  by  an  immense  dissimilarity 
from  all  the  remains  of  polytheistic  literature,  are 
those  of  guilt,  shame,  contrition,  love,  joy,  grati- 
tude, and  affectionate  obedience.  And  moreover, 
in  conformity  with  this  same  intention,  the  Divine 
Being  is  revealed — if  not  exclusively,  yet  chiefly,  as 
the  party  in  the  great  controversy  which  sin   has 

occasioned.     The   intercourse,  therefore,  which  is 

*5 


50  ENTHUSIASM 

opened  between  heaven  and  earth  is  almost  confined 
to  the  momentous  transactions  of  reconciliation  and 
renewed  friendship.  When  the  Hearer  of  prayer 
invites  interlocution  with  man,  it  is  not,  as  perhaps 
in  Eden,  for  the  purposes  of  free  and  discursive 
converse,  but  for  conference  on  a  special  business. 
"Come  now,  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Al- 
mightyj  though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be 
white  as  snow,  though  they  be  red  like  crimson, 
they  shall  be  as  wool." 

The  same  specialty  of  purpose  and  limitation  of 
subject  is  plainly  implied  in  the  appointment  of  a 
Mediator  and  advocate;  for  although  the  establish- 
ment of  this  happy  medium  of  approach  authorizes 
and  encourages  even  a  boldness  of  access  to  the 
throne  of  the  heavenly  grace,  it  not  less  evidently 
imposes  a  restriction  or  peculiarity  upon  the  inter- 
course between  God  and  man.  As  the  Intercessor 
exercises  his  office  to  obtain  the  bestowment  of  the 
benefits  secured  to  mankind  by  His  vicarious  suffer- 
ings, the  suppliant  must  surely  have  those  benefits 
especially  in  view.  The  work  and  office  of  the 
Mediator,  and  the  desires  and  petitions  of  the  client 
are  correlatives.  "No  man,"  said  the  Saviour, 
"cometh  unto  the  Father  but  by  me."  It  follows 
then,  naturally,  that  those  who  thus  come  to  the 
Father  should  keep  in  constant  remembrance  the 
great  intention  of  the  mediatorial  scheme,  which  is 
nothing  else  than  to  reconcile  transgressors  to  the 
offended  Majesty  of  heaven.  But  this  unalterable 
condition  of  all  devotional  services  contains  a  mani- 


OF    THE    ROMISH    WORSHIP.  51 

fest  and  efficacious  provision  against  enthusiastical 
excitements;  for  the  emotions  of  shame,  and  peni- 
tence, and  of  joy  in  receiving  the  assurance  of  par- 
don, are  not  at  all  of  the  class  with  which  the  imag- 
ination has  affinity;  and,  in  a  well-ordered  mind, 
they  may  rise  to  their  highest  pitch  without  either 
disturbing  the  powers  of  reason,  or  infringing  the 
most  perfect  inward  serenity  or  outward  decorum. 
In  a  word,  it  may  be  confidently  affirmed  that  no 
man  becomes  an  enthusiast  in  religion,  until  he  has 
forgotten  that  he  is  a  transgressor  reconciled  to  God 
by  a  Mediator. 

But  when,  either  by  the  refinements  of  rationalism 
— a  gross  misnomer — or  by  superstitious  corruptions, 
the  central  facts  of  Christianity  are  obscured,  no 
middle  ground  remains  between  the  apathy  of  form- 
ality and  the  extravagance  of  enthusiasm.  The  sub- 
stance of  religion  is  gone,  and  its  ceremonial  only 
remains — to  disgust  the  intelligent  and  to  delude 
the  simple.  This  momentous  principle  is  strikingly 
displayed  in  the  construction  of  the  Romish  worship. 
That  false  system  assumes  the  great  business  of  par- 
don and  reconciliation  with  God  to  be  a  transaction 
that  belongs  only  to  priestly  negotiation;  and  as  for- 
giveness has  its  price,  and  the  priest  is  at  once  the 
appraiser  of  the  offence,  and  the  receiver  of  the 
mulct,  it  would  be  an  intrusion  upon  his  function — 
an  interference  that  must  derange  his  balances,  for 
the  transgressor  to  act  on  his  own  behalf,  or  ever  to 
inquire  what  passes  between  the  authorized;  agent 
of  mercy,  and  the  court  of  heaven.     No  room  then 


62  ENTHUSIASM 

is  left  in  this  system  for  the  great  and  central  sub- 
ject of  all  devotional  exercises.  The  doctrine  of 
pardon  having  been  cut  off  from  worship,  worship 
becomes  unsubstantial.  The  expiatory  death  and 
availing  intercession  of  the  Son  of  God  are  taken 
within  the  rail  of  sacerdotal  usurpation;  and  of  ne- 
cessity, if  Jesus  Christ  is  at  all  to  beset  forth  "cru- 
cified before  the  people,"  it  can  only  be  as  an  object 
of  dramatic  exhibition: — this  is  the  secret  of  the 
popish  magnificence  of  worship.  Music,  and  paint- 
ing, and  pantomime,  and  a  tinsel  declamation,  must 
do  their  several  parts  to  disguise  the  subduction  of 
the  essentials  of  devotion.  The  laity,  having  noth- 
ing to  transact  with  God,  must  be  amused  and  be- 
guiled, "lest  haply  the  gospel  of  His  grace"  should 
enter  the  iieart,  and  so  the  trading  intervention  of 
the  priest  be  superseded. 

The  great  purpose  of  the  Romish  worship,  which 
is  to  preclude  all  genuine  feelings  by  exciting  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  imagination,  is  accomplished  with 
consummate  skill  and  knowledge  of  the  human  mind. 
The  end  proposed  will,  as  it  is  manifest,  be  best  at- 
tained when  the  emotions  which  spring  from  the  im- 
agination are  carried  up  to  the  very  nearest  possible 
resemblance  to  those  that  belong  to  the  heart.  The 
nicest  imitation  will  be  the  most  successful  in  this 
machinery  of  delusion.  Hence  it  is,  that  while  all 
those  means  of  excitement  are  employed  which 
quicken  the  physical  sensibilities,  the  deeper  sen- 
sibilities of  the  soul  are  still  addressed,  and  yet  al- 
ways by  the  intervention  of  dramatic  or  poetic  im- 


OF    THE    ROMISH    WORSHIP.  53 

ages. — An  undisguised  appeal   to  the  heart  is  un- 
known to  the  system. 

If  it  be  for  a  moment  forgotten,  that  in  every  bell, 
and  bowl,  and  vest  of  the  Romish  service,  there  is 
hid  a  device  against  the  liberty  and  welfare  of  man- 
kind, and  that  its  gold,  and  pearls,  and  fine  linen  are 
the  deckings  of  eternal  ruin;  and  if  this  apparatus  of 
worship  be  compared  with  the  impurities  and  the 
cruelties  of  the  polytheistic  rites,  great  praise  may 
seem  due  to  its  contrivers.  Nothing  in  Christianity 
that  might  subserve  the  purposes  of  dramatic  effect 
has  been  overlooked;  even  the  most  difficult  parts  af 
the  materials  have  been  wrought  into  keeping.  The 
humiliations  and  poverty  which  shroud  the  glory  of 
the  principal  personage,  and  the  horrors  of  his  death; 
— the  awful  beauty  and  compassionate  advocacy  of 
the  virgin  mother,  the  queen  of  heaven; — the  stern 
dignity  of  the  twelve; — the  marvels  of  miraculous 
power; — the  heroism  of  the  martyrs; — the  mortifica- 
tions of  the  saints; — the  punishment  of  the  enemies 
of  the  church; — the  practices  of  devils; — the  inter- 
cession and  tutelary  cares  of  the  blessed; — the  sor- 
rows of  the  nether  world,  and  the  glories  of  the  up- 
per;— all  these  materials  of  poetic  and  scenic  effect 
have  been  elaborated  by  the  genius  and  taste  of  the 
Italian  artists,  until  a  spectacle  has  been  got  up 
which  leaves  the  most  splendid  shows  of  the  ancient 
idol-worship  of  Greece  and  Rome  at  a  vast  distance 
of  inferiority. 

But  of  what  avail  is  all  this  sumptuous  apparatus  in 
promoting  either  genuine  piety  or  purity  of  manners.^ 


64  ENTHUSIASM 

History  and  existing  facts  leave  no  obscurity  on  the 
question;  for  the  atrocity  of  crime,  and  the  foulness 
of  licentiousness,  have  ever  kept  pace  with  the  per- 
fectionment  of  the  Romish  service.  Those  nations 
upon  whose  manners  it  has  worked  its  proper  influ- 
ence with  the  fullest  effect,  have  been  the  most  cor- 
rupt and  the  most  debauched.  Splendid  rites  and 
odious  vices  have  dwelt  in  peace  under  the  same 
consecrated  roofs,  and  the  actors  and  spectators  of 
these  sacred  pantomimes  have  been  wont  to  rush 
together  from  the  solemn  pomps  of  worship  to  the 
chambers  of  filthy  sin. 

The  substitution  of  poetic  enthusiasm  for  genuine 
piety  may  however  take  place  without  the  decora- 
tions of  the  Romish  service;  but  the  means  employ- 
ed must  be  of  a  more  intellectual  cast:  eloquence 
must  take  all  the  labor  on  itself,  and  must  subject 
the  doctrines  of  Scripture  to  a  process  of  refinement 
which  shall  deposit  whatever  is  substantial  and 
affecting,  and  retain  only  what  is  magnific,  pa- 
thetic, or  sublime.  Yet  the  principles  of  protes- 
tantism, and  the  national  temper,  and  the  spirit  of 
the  formularies  of  the  English  church,  all  discour- 
age the  attempt  to  hold  forth  the  subjects  of  evan- 
gelical teaching  in  the  gorgeous  colors  of  an  arti- 
ficial oratory.  And  if  the  evidence  of  facts  were 
listened  to,  such  attempts  would  never  be  made  by 
men  who  honestly  desire  to  discharge  the  momen- 
tous duties  of  the  Christian  ministry  in  the  manner 
most  conducive  to  the  welfare  of  their  hearers.     A 


OF    POPULAR    ORATORY.  55 

blaze  of  emotion,  having  the  semblance  of  piety, 
may  be  kindled  by  descriptive  and  impassioned  har- 
angues, such  as  those  that  are  heard  on  days  of  fes- 
tival from  French  and  Italian  pulpits;  but  it  will  be 
found  that  the  Divine  Spiritg,  without  whose  agency 
the  heart  is  never  permanently  affected,  sternly 
refuses  to  become  a  party  in  any  such  theatric  exer- 
cises: the  emotions  will  therefore  subside  without 
leaving  a  vestige  of  salutary  influence. 

Yet  is  there  perhaps  a  lawful  range  open,  in  the 
pulpit,  to  the  powers  of  descriptive  eloquence.  The 
preacher  may  embellish  all  those  subsidiary  topics 
that  are  not  included  within  the  circle  of  the  prim- 
ary principles  on  which  the  religious  affections  are 
built;  for  in  addressing  the  imagination  on  these 
accessary  points,  he  does  not  incur  the  danger  of 
founding  piety  altogether  upon  illusions.  The  great 
and  beautiful  in  nature,  and  perhaps  the  natural  at- 
tributes of  the  Deity,  and  the  episodes  of  sacred  his- 
tory, and  the  diversities  of  human  character,  and  the 
scenes  of  social  life,  and  the  temporal  interests  of 
mankind,  may,  by  their  incidental  connexion  with 
more  important  themes,  furnish  the  means  of  awak- 
ening attention,  and  of  varying  the  sameness  of  theo- 
logical discourse.  Or  even  if  no  unquestionable 
plea  of  utility  could  be  urged  in  recommendation 
of  such  divertisements,  at  the  worst  they  are  not 
chargeable  with  the  desecration  of  fundamental  doc- 
trines; nor  do  they  generate  delusion  where  delusion 
must  be  fatal.  But  it  is  not  so  with  the  principal 
matters  of  the  preachers  message  to  his  fellow-men, 


66 


ENTHUSIASM 


which  can  never — nor  in  the  slightest  degree,  be 
touched  by  the  pencil  of  poetic  or  dramatic  elo- 
quence without  hazard  of  the  highest  kind,  inasmuch 
as  the  excitement  so  engendered  more  often  ex- 
cludes, than  merely  impairs  genuine  feelings. 

If  the  taste  of  an  audience  be  quickened  and  cul- 
tivated, nothing  is   more    easy  to   the    teacher,  or 
more  agreeable  to  the  taught,  than  a  transition  from 
the  sphere  of  spiritual  feeling    to  the  regions  of 
poetic  excitement.     Intellect  is  put  in  movement  by 
the  change;  conscience  is  lulled; — the  vi'eight  that 
may  have  rested  on  the  heart  is  upborne,  and  a  slate 
of  animal  elasticity  induced,  which,  so  long  as  it 
continues,  dispels  the  sadness  of  earthly  cares.   Let  it 
be  supposed  that  the  subject  of  discourse  is  that  one 
which,  of  all  others,  should  be  the  most  solemnly  af- 
fecting to  those  who  admit  the  truth  of  Christianity — 
the  awful  process  of  the  last  judgment.  The  speaker, 
we  will    believe,  intends  nothing  but    to  inspire  a 
salutary  alarm;  and  with  this  view  he  essays  his  ut- 
most command  of  language,  while  he  describes  the 
sudden  waning  of  the   morning  sun,  the  blackening 
of  the  heavens,  the  decadence  of  stars,  the  growing 
thunders  of  coming  wrath,  the  clang  of  the  trumpet, 
whose  notes  break  the   slumbers  of  the  dead;  the 
crash  of  the   pillars  of  earth,  the   bursting  forth   of 
the  treasures  of  fire,  and  the  solving  of  all  things  in 
the  fervent  heat.     Then  the   bright   appearance  of 
the  Judge,  encircled  by    the   splendors  of  the  court 
of  heaven; — the  convoked  assemblage  of  witnesses 
from  all  worlds,  filling   the  concave  of  the  skies. 


OF    POPULAR    ORATORY. 


57 


Then  the  dense  ma'sses  of  the  family  of  man,  crowd- 
ing  the  area  of  the  great  tribunal; — the  separation 
of  the  multitude; — the  irreversible  sentence,  the  de- 
parture of  the  doomed,  the  triumphant  ascent  of  the 
ransomed. 

Compared  with  themes  like  these,  how  poor  were 
the  subjects  of  ancient  oratory!  And  such  is  their 
force,  such  the  freshness  of  their  power,  that  though 
a  thousand  times  presented  to  the  imagination,  they 
may  yet  again,  when  skilfully  managed,  command 
breathless  attention — while  the  sands  of  the  preach- 
er's hour  are  running  out.  Nor  ought  it  to  be 
affirmed  that  excitements  of  this  kind  can  never  pro- 
duce salutary  impressions;  or  that  such  impressions 
never  accompany  the  hearer  beyond  the  threshold  of 
the  church,  or  survive  a  day's  contact  with  secular 
interests:  absolute  assertions  of  this  sort  are  un- 
necessary to  our  argument.  The  question  to  be 
answered  is,  whether  this  species  of  movement  be 
not  of  the  nature  of  mere  enthusiasm,  and  whether 
it  does  not  rather  exclude  than  promote  religious 
feelings. 

In  regard  to  the  illustration  we  have  adduced, 
there  might  be  room  for  a  previous  inquiry; — wheth- 
er, on  sound  principles  of  interpretation,  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture  ought  to  be  understood  as  giving 
warrant  to  those  material  images  of  terrible  sublimity 
with  which  it  is  usual  to  invest  the  proceedings  of 
the  future  day  of  retribution.  But  let  it  be  granted 
that  the  customary  representations  of  popular  ora- 
tory are  not  erroneous;  and  that  when  the  preacher 
6 


r>S  ENTHUSIASM 

thus  accumulates  the  physical  machinery  of  terror, 
he  is  truly  picturing  that  last  scene  of  the  history  of 
man.  Even  then  it  were  not  difficult,  by  an  effort 
of  reasoning  and  of  meditation,  and  by  following 
out  the  emotions  of  our  moral  constitution,  to  real- 
ize the  feelings  which  must  fill  the  soul  on  that  day 
when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  published; 
and  these  feelings  may  be  imagined,  on  probable 
grounds  of  anticipation,  to  be  such  as  must  render 
all  exterior  perceptions  dim,  and  make  even  the 
most  stupendous  magnificence  of  the  surrounding 
scene,  to  fade  from  the  sight.  It  is  nothing  but  the 
present  torpor  of  the  moral  sentiments  that  allows 
to  material  ideas  so  much  power  to  occupy  and 
overwhelm  the  mind;  but  when  the  soul  shall  be 
quickened  from  its  lethargy,  then  good  and  evil  will 
take  that  seat  of  influence  which  has  been  usurped 
by  unsubstantial  images  of  greatness,  beauty,  or  ter- 
ror. What  are  the  thunderings  of  a  thousand  storms, 
what  the  clangor  of  the  trumpet,  or  the  crash  of 
earth,  or  the  universal  blaze;  what  the  dazzling  front 
of  the  celestial  array;  or  even  the  appalling  appar- 
atus of  punishment,  to  the  spirit  that  has  become 
alive  to  the  consciousness  of  its  own  moral  condition, 
and  is  standing  naked  in  the  manifested  presence  of 
the  High  and  Holy  One.''  That  time  of  judgment, 
which  is  to  dispel  all  disguises,  and  to  drag  sin  from 
its  coverts  into  the  full  light  of  heaven,  will  assuredly 
find  no  moment  of  leisure  for  the  discursive  eye; 
one  perception,  one  emotion  will  doubtless  rule  ex- 
clusive in  the  soul. 


OF    POPULAR    ORATORY.  59 

No  extravagance  or  groundless  refinement  is  con- 
tained in  the  supposition  that  in  the  great  day  of 
inquiry  and  award,  the  moral  shall  so  overwhelm 
the  physical,  that  when,  by  regular  process  of  evi- 
dence, according  to  the  forms  of  that  perfect  court, 
conviction  has  been  obtained  of  even  some  minor 
offence  against  the  eternal  laws  of  purity  or  justice 
— an  offence  which,  if  confessed  on  earth,  would 
hardly  have  brought  a  blush  upon  the  cheek,  the 
heart  will  be  penetrated  with  an  anguish  of  shame 
that  shall  preclude  the  perception  of  surrounding 
wonders:  on  that  day  it  will  be  sin,  not  a  flaming 
world,  that  appals  the  soul. 

If  anticipations  such  as  these  approve  themselves 
to  reason,  it  follows  that  the  humblest  and  the  least 
adorned  eloquence  of  a  purely  moral  kind,  of  which 
the  only  topics  are  sin  and  holiness,  guilt  and  par- 
don, takes  incomparably  a  nearer  and  a  safer  road 
towards  the  attainment  of  the  great  object  of  Chris- 
tian instruction,  than  the  most  overwhelming  oratory 
that  addresses  itself  chiefly  to  the  imagination.  Nayj 
it  may  be  affirmed  that  such  oratory,  however  art- 
fully elaborated,  and  however  well  intended  it  may 
be,  is  nothing  better  than  a  curtain,  finely  wrought 
indeed  with  gorgeous  colors,  but  serving  to  liide 
from  men  the  substantial  terrors  of  the  day  of  retri- 
bution. 

Nothing  then  can  be  more  glaringly  inequitable 
than  the  manner  in  which  the  imputation  of  enthu- 
siasm is  frequently  advanced.  On  the  ground, 
either  of  common  sense  or  of  philosophical  analysis, 


GO 


ENTHUSIASM  OF  POPULAH  ORATORY. 


the  epithet  must  be  assigned  to  him  who,  in  neglect 
or  contempt  of  the  substance  of  his  argument,  draws 
an  idle  and  profitless  excitement  from  its  adjuncts. 
And  on  the  same  ground  we  must  exculpate  from 
such  a  charge  the  speaker  who,  however  intense 
may  be  his  fervor,  is  himself  moved,  and  labors  to 
move  others  by  what  is  most  solid  and  momentous 
in  his  subject.  Now  to  recur  for  a  moment  to  the 
illustration  already  adduced.  In  the  anticipations 
we  may  form  of  the  day  of  judgment,  there  are  com- 
bined two  perfectly  distinct  classes  of  ideas; — on 
the  one  side  there  are  those  images  of  physical  gran- 
deur and  of  dramatic  effect  which  offer  themselves 
to  the  imaginative  orator  as  the  proper  materials  of 
his  art,  and  which,  if  skilfully  managed,  will  not  fail 
to  produce  the  kind  of  excitement  that  is  desired  by 
both  speaker  and  hearer.  On  the  other  side  there 
are,  in  these  anticipations,  the  forensic  proceedings 
which  form  the  very  substance  of  the  fearful  scene; 
and  these  proceedings,  though  of  infinite  moment  to 
every  human  being,  tend  rather  to  quell  than  to 
excite  the  imagination,  and  therefore  afford  the 
preacher  no  means  of  producing  effect,  or  even  of 
keeping  alive  attention,  unless  the  conscience  of  the 
hearer  is  alarmed,  and  his  heart  opened  to  the  salu- 
tary impressions  of  fear,  shame,  and  hope.  In  look- 
ing then  at  these  themes,  so  distinct  in  their  quali- 
ties, we  ask — Is  he  the  enthusiast  who  concerns  him- 
self with  the  substance,  or  he  who  amuses  himself 
and  his  hearers  with  the  shadow.^  Yet  is  it  common 
to  hear  an  orator  spoken  of  as  a  sound  and  sober 


CRITERION    OF    ENTHUSIASM.  Cl 

divine,  who  for  maintaining  his  influence  and  popu- 
larity, depends  exclusively,  constantly,  and  avowedly 
upon  his  powers  to  aftect  the  imagination  and  the 
passions  by  poetic  or  dramatic  images,  and  who  is 
perpetually  laboring  to  invest  the  solemn  doctrines 
of  religion  in  a  garb  of  attractive  eloquence.  Mean- 
while a  less  accomplished  speaker,  who — perhaps 
with  more  of  vehemence  than  of  elegance — insists 
simply  upon  the  momentous  part  of  his  message,  is 
branded  as  an  enthusiast,  merely  because  his  fervor 
rises  some  degrees  above  that  of  others.  Ineffable 
folly!  to  designate  as  enthusiastical  the  intensity  of 
genuine  emotions,  and  to  approve  as  rational  mere 
deliriums  of  the  fancy,  which  intercept  the  influence 
of  momentous  truths  upon  the  heart.  Yet  such  is 
the  wisdom  of  the  world! 

It  cannot  be  pretended  that  the  distinction 
between  genuine  and  enthusiastic  piety  turns  upon 
a  metaphysical  nicety: — nothing  so  important  to  all 
men  must  be  imagined  to  await  the  determination 
of  abstruse  questions;  and  if  the  distinction  which 
has  been  illustrated  in  the  preceding  pages  is  not 
perfectly  intelligible,  it  may  safely  be  rejected  as  of 
no  practical  value.  But  surely  there  can  hardly  be 
any  one  so  little  observant  of  his  own  consciousness 
as  not  to  have  learned  that  the  feelings  excited  by 
what  is  beautiful  or  sublime,  terrible  or  pathetic, 
differ  essentially  from  those  emotions  that  are  kin- 
dled in  the  heart  by  the  ideas  of  goodness  and  of 
purity,  or  of  malignancy  and  pollution.  And  every 
*6 


G3  CRITERION 

one  must  know  that  virtue  and  piety  have  their  range 
among  feelings  of  tiie  latter,  not  of  the  former  class; 
and  every  one  must  perceive  that  if  the  former  oc- 
cupy the  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  the  latter,  the 
moral  sentiments  cannot  fail  to  be  impoverished  or 
corrupted.  It  is  moreover  very  evident  that  the 
great  facts  of  Christianity  possess  the  means  of  ex- 
citing, in  a  powerful  degree,  the  emotions  that  be- 
long to  the  imagination,  as  well  as  those  which 
affect  the  heart;  it  therefore  follows  that  the  former 
may,  in  whole  or  in  part,  supplant  the  latter;  and 
thus  a  fictitious  piety  be  engendered,  which,  while 
it  produces  much  of  the  semblance  of  true  religion, 
yields  none  of  its  substantial  fruits.  In  this  manner 
it  may  happen — not  in  rare  instances,  but  in  many 
— that  if  a  season  of  religious  excitement  has  once 
taken  place,  though  it  had  in  it  little  or  nothing  of 
the  elements  of  a  change  from  evil  to  good,  it  may 
have  been  assumed  as  constituting  a  valid  and  ina- 
missible  initiation  in  the  Christian  life;  and  if  subse- 
quently the  decencies  of  religion  and  of  morality 
have  been  preserved,  a  strong  supposition  of  sincer- 
ity is  entertained  to  the  last,  even  though  all  was 
illusory. 

Yet  these  melancholy  cases  of  self-deception  are 
not  to  be  remedied  by  mere  explanations  of  the 
delusion;  on  the  cbntrary,  the  practical  use  to  be 
made  of  definitions  and  distinctions  and  descrip- 
tions in  matters  of  religious  feeling,  is  to  exhibit 
the  necessity,  and  to  enhance  the  value  of  more 
available  tests  of  sincerity.     Thus,  for  example,  if 


OF    ENTHUSIASM.  63 

it  appears  that,  in  times  like  the  present,  when  relig- 
ious profession  undergoes  no  severe  probation,  the 
danger  of  substituting  enthusiasm  for  true  piety  is 
extreme,  there  will  appear  the  greater  need  to  have 
recourse  to  those  means  of  proof  which  infallibly 
discriminate  between  truth  and  pretension.  This 
means  of  proof  is  the  standard  of  morals  and  of 
temper  exhibited  in  the  Scriptures.  No  other  method 
of  determining  the  most  momentous  of  all  questions 
is  given  to  us;  and  none  other  is  needed.  We  can 
neither  ascend  into  the  heavens,  there  to  inspect  the 
book  of  life,  nor  satisfactorily  descend  into  the 
depths  of  the  heart  to  analyze  the  complex  and 
occult  varieties  of  its  emotions.  But  we  may  instant- 
ly and  certainly  know  whether  we  do  the  things 
which  He  has  commanded  whom  we  call  Lord. 


SECTION    III. 

ENTHUSIASTIC    PERVERSIONS    OF    THE    DOCTRINE   OF 
DIVINE    INFLUENCE. 

A  SENTIMENT  natural  to  the  human  mind,  leads 
it  to  entertain  and  to  dwell  with  pleasure  upon  the 
belief  of  the  stability  and  permanence  of  the  mate- 
rial world.  Whether  we  view  the  multiform  ranks 
of  organized  and  animated  beings  which  cover  the 
earth,  or  examine  the  occult  processes  of  nature,  or 
look  upwards,  and  contemplate  distant  worlds,  the 
regularity  with  which  the  great  machine  of  the  vis- 
ible creation  effects  its  revolutions,  inspires  a  deep 
emotion  of  delight.  This  feeling  brings  with  it  invol- 
untarily the  supposition  of  extended  duration;  nor  is 
it  without  extreme  difficulty  that  we  can  separate 
the  idea  of  so  vast  a  combination  of  causes  and 
effects  moving  forwards  with  unfailing  precision 
from  the  thought — if  not  of  eternity — yet  of  unnum- 
bered ages  gone  by,  and  yet  to  come.  While  these 
natural  impressions  occupy  the  mind,  a  strange 
revulsion  of  feeling  takes  place,  if  suddenly  it  is 
recollected  that  the  massy  pillars  of  creation,  with 
its  towering  superstructure,  and  its  high-wrought 
embellishments,  and  its  innumerable  tenants,  are 
absolutely  destitute   of  intrinsic   permanency,  and 


DIVINE    INFLUENCE. 


65 


that  the  stupendous  frame,  with  its  nice  and  mighty 
movements  is  incessantly  issued  anew  from  the  fount 
of  being.  Apart  from  the  Divine  volition,  perpetu- 
ally active,  there  can  be  no  title  to  existence;  and 
in  the  moment  which  should  succeed  to  the  cessa- 
tion of  the  efficient  will  of  the  First  Cause,  all  crea- 
tures must  fall  back  to  utter  dissolution. 

Reason  as  well  as  faith  justifies  this  doctrine,  and 
demands  that  we  deny  independency  to  whatever  is 
created,  and  devoutly  confess  that  God  is  "all  in  all." 
In  Him,  by  whom  they  were  formed,  "all  things  con- 
sist;"— in  Him  all  "live  and  move  and  have  their 
being." — He  is  the  author  and  giver  of  life,  and  in 
the  strictest  sense  it  may  be  affirmed  that  every  day, 
not  less  than  the  first,  is  a  day  of  creation;  every 
moment  the  word  of  power  is  pronounced  from  the 
height  of  the  Eternal  Throne — "let  there  be  light" 
and  life.  This  belief  constitutes  the  basement-prin- 
ciple of  all  religion,  and  is  the  sentiment  from  which 
piety  must  take  its  spring.  The  notion  of  indepen- 
dency and  of  eternity,  suggusted  by  the  regular 
movements  of  nature,  are  thus  thrown  off  from  the 
surface  of  the  visible  world,  and  go  to  enhance  our 
impressions  of  the  glories  of  Him  who  alone  is  eter- 
nal, unchangeable  and  independent. 

But  the  conditions  of  existence,  not  less  than  its 
matter  and  form,  are  from  God.  In  truth  the  notions 
of  being,  and  of  well-being,  are  not  to  be  distin- 
guished in  reference  to  the  Divine  causation;  for  all 
His  works  are  perfect,  both  in  model  and  in  move- 
ment.    There  is  therefore  no  particle  of  virtue  or  of 


66  DOCTRINE    OF 

happiness  in  the  universe,  any  more  than  of  bare 
existence,  of  which  God  is  not  the  author.  Neither 
Scripture  nor  philosophy  permits  exceptions  or  dis- 
tinctions to  be  made;  for  if  we  attribute  to  the 
Creator  the  organ,  we  must  also  attribute  to  Him  its 
functions  and  its  health,  which  is  only  the  perfec- 
tion of  its  functions.  And  thus  also,  if  the  soul 
with  its  complex  apparatus  of  reason,  and  moral 
sentiment,  and  appetite,  be  the  handy  work  of  God, 
so  is  its  healthful  action.  But  the  healthful  ac- 
tion of  the  soul  consists  in  love  to  God,  and  free 
subjection  to  His  will.  Virtue  is  nothing  else  in 
its  substance — nothing  else  in  its  cause.  As  in 
Him  "we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,"  so 
also  it  is  He  who  "worketh  in  us  to  will,  and  to 
do"  whatever  is  pleasing  to  himself.  Whether 
we  take  the  safe  and  ready  method  of  acquiescing 
•in  the  obvious  sense  of  a  multitude  of  Scriptures,  or 
pursue  the  laborious  deductions  of  abstract  reason- 
in  f^s,  the  same  conclusion  is  attained — that  in  the 
present  world,  and  in  every  other  where  virtue  and 
happiness  are  found,  virtue  and  happiness  are  the 
emanations  of  the  divine  blessedness  and  purity. 

But  if  this  efflux  of  the  divine  nature  belongs  to 
the  original  constitution  of  intelligent  beings,  and 
is  the  permanent  and  only  source  of  all  goodness 
and  felicity,  it  must  be  intimately  fitted  to  the 
movements  of  mind;  and  must  harmonise  perfectly 
with  its  mechanism; — ^just  as  perfectly  as  the  cre- 
ative influence  harmonises  with  the  mechanism  and 
movements  of  animal  life. 


DIVINE    INFLUENCE.  67 

Whatever  is  vigorous  and  healthful  in  the  one 
kind  of  existence,  or  holy  and  happy  in  the  other, 
is  of  God,  whose  power  and  goodness  are,  through- 
out the  universe,  the  natural — not  the  supernatu- 
ral cause  of  whatever  is  not  evil.  It  were  then 
a  strange  supposition  to  imagine  that  this  impart- 
ation  of  virtue  and  happiness,  may  be  perceptible 
to  the  subject  of  it,  like  the  access  of  a  foreign 
and  extraordinary  influence;  or  that  while  the  cre- 
ative agency  is  altogether  undistinguishable  amid 
the  movements  of  animal  and  intellectual  life,  the 
spiritual  agency  which  conveys  the  warmth  and 
activity  of  virtue  to  the  soul,  is  otherwise  than  in- 
scrutable in  its  mode  of  operation.  As  the  one 
kind  of  divine  energy  does  not  display  its  presence 
by  convulsive  or  capricious  irregularities,  but  by 
the  unnoticed  vigor  and  promptitude  of  the  func- 
tions of  life,  so  the  other  energy  cannot,  without 
irreverence,  be  thought  of  as  making  itself  felt  by 
extra-natural  impulses,  or  sensible  shocks  upon  the 
intellectual  system;  but  must  rather  be  imagined 
as  an  equable  pulse  of  life,  throbbing  from  within, 
and  diffusing  softness,  sensibility  and  force  through 
the  soul. 

It  is  indeed  true  that  if  death  or  torpor  has  long 
held  the  moral  powers  in  suspended  action,  the 
returning  principle  of  life,  while  working  its  way 
in  contrariety  to  the  inveterate  derangements  of 
the  system,  may  make  itself  felt  otherwise  than 
where  no  such  derangement  has  existed;  yet  will 
it  only  be  perceived  by  its  collision  with  the  evils 


68  DOCTIUNE    OF 

that  have  usurped  the  heart;  not  by  its  spontaneous 
movements.  These  are,  in  truth,  the  foreign  and 
disturbing  influence;  it  is  these  that  make  them- 
selves known  by  their  abrupt  and  capricious  activ- 
ity, by  their  convulsive  or  feverish  force.  Mean- 
while the  heavenly  emanation  which  heals,  cleans- 
es, and  blesses  the  spirit  is  still,  and  constant,  and 
transparent  as  "a  well  of  water  springing  up  unto 
eternal  life." 

Nevertheless,  from  the  accidents  of  the  position 
in  which  we  are  placed,  the  divine  influence  may 
appear  under  an  aspect  immensely  unlike  that  in 
which  we  should  view  it,  if  our  prospect  of  the  in- 
telligent universe  were  more  extended  than  it  is. 
Thus  the  sad  tenant  of  a  dungeon,  who  has  spent 
the  days  of  many  years  alive  in  the  darkness  of  the 
tomb,  thinks  otherwise  of  the  light  of  the  sun,  as 
he  watches  the  pencil  ray  that  traverses  his  prison 
wall,  than  those  do  who  walk  abroad  amid  the 
splendors  of  the  summer's  noon.  Or  we  may  im- 
agine a  world  of  once  animated  beings  to  be  lying 
in  the  coldness  and  corruption  of  death,  and  we 
rnay  suppose  that  the  creative  power  returns  and 
reanimates  some  among  the  dead,  restoring  them 
instantaneously  to  the  warmth,  and  vigor,  and  enjoy- 
ments of  life.  The  spectator  of  this  partial  resurrec- 
tion who  had  long  contemplated  nothing  but  the  dis- 
mal stillness  and  corruption  of  the  universal  death 
might,  in  his  glad  amazement,  forget  that  the  death 
of  so  many,  not  the  life  of  the  few,  is  anomalous,  and 
strange,  and  contrary  to  the  order  of  nature      The 


mVINE    INFLUENCE.  69 

miracle,  if  so  he  will  term  it,  is  nothing  more- 
nothing  else,  than  what  is  every  instant  taking 
place  throughout  the  wide  realms  of  happy  and  vir- 
tuous existence.  The  life-giving  energy,  whose 
beams  of  expansive  beneficence  had  been  for  a 
while,  and  in  this  world  of  death,  intercepted  or 
withdrawn,  has  returned  with  a  kindling  revulsion 
to  its  wonted  channel;  and  now  moves  on  in  copi- 
ous tranquillity.  And  yet  the  dead  may  out-num- 
ber the  living;  nevertheless  the  condition  of  the 
former,  not  that  of  the  latter  is  extraordinary;  and 
the  return  to  life,  however  amazing  it  may  seem, 
can  with  no  propriety  be  called  supernatural. 

The  language  of  Scripture,  when  it  asserts  the 
momentous  doctrine  of  the  renovation  of  the  soul 
by  the  immediate  agency  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  em- 
ploys figurative  terms  which,  while  they  give  the 
utmost  possible  force  to  the  truth  so  conveyed,  in- 
dicate clearly  the  congruity  of  the  change  with  the 
original  construction  of  human  nature.  The  re- 
turn to  virtue  and  happiness  is — a  resurrection  to 
life;  or  it  is  a  new  birth;  or  it  is  the  opening  of 
the  eyes  of  the  blind,  or  the  unstopping  the  ears 
of  the  deaf;  or  it  is  the  springing  up  of  a  fountain 
of  purity;  or  it  is  a  gale  of  heaven,  neither  seen 
nor  known  but  by  its  effects;  or  it  is  the  growth 
and  fructification  of  the  grain;  or  it  is  the  abode 
of  a  guest  in  the  home  of  a  friend,  or  the  residence 
of  the  Deity  in  His  temple.  Each  of  these  em- 
blems, and  all  others  used  in  the  Scriptures  in  ref- 
erence to  the  same  subject,  combines  the  double 
7 


70  PERVERSIONS    OF 

idea  of  a  change — great,  definite,  and  absolute;  and 
of  a  change  from  disorder,  corruption,  derange- 
ment, to  a  natural  and  permanent  condition:  they 
are  ail  manifestly  chosen  with  the  intention  of  ex- 
cluding the  idea  of  a  miraculous,  or  semi-mirac- 
ulous intervention  of  power.  A  change  of  moral 
dispositions  so  entire  as  to  be  properly  symbolized 
by  calling  it  a  new  birth,  or  a  resurrection  to 
life,  must  be  much  more  than  a  self  effected  ref- 
ormation; for  if  it  were  nothing  more  the  figure 
would  be  preposterous,  unnecessary,  and  delusive. 
But  on  the  other  hand,  this  change  must  be  per- 
fectly in  harmony  with  the  physical  and  intellect- 
ual constitution  of  human  nature,  or  the  figure 
would  be  devoid  of  propriety  and  significance. 

But  a  doctrine  of  divine  influence  like  this,  which 
is  so  full  of  promise  and  of  comfort  to  the  aspirant 
after  true  virtue,  and  which  offers  nothing  to  those 
who  are  eager  for  transitory  excitements,  and  who 
look  for  visible  displays  of  supernatural  power,  does 
not  satisfy  the  religious  enthusiast.  Not  content  to  be 
the  recipient  of  an  invigorating  and  purifying  ema- 
nation, which,  unseen  and  unperceived,  elevates  the 
debased  affections,  and  fixes  them  on  the  Supreme 
Excellence;  nor  satisfied  to  know  that,  under  this 
healing  influence,  the  inveteracy  of  evil  disposi- 
tions is  broken  up,  and  a  real  advance  made  in  vir- 
tue, he  asks  some  sensible  evidence  of  the  indwel- 
ling of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  would  fain  so  dissect 
his  ovvn  consciousness  as  to  bring  the  presence  of 
the  Divine  agent  under  palpable  examination.     Or 


THIS    DOCTRINE.  71 

he  seeks  for  some  such  extraordinary  turbulence  of 
emotion  as  may  seem  unquestionably  to  surpass  the 
powers  and  course  of  nature.  Fraught  with  these 
wishes,  he  continually  gazes  upon  the  variable  sur- 
face of  his  own  feelings,  in  unquiet  expectation  of  a 
supernatural  troubling  of  the  waters.  The  silent 
rise  of  the  well-spring  of  purity  and  peace  he  neither 
heeds  nor  values;  for  nothing  less  than  the  eddies 
and  sallies  of  religious  passion  can  assure  him  that 
he  is  "born  from  above." 

A  delusive  notion  of  this  kind  at  once  diverts  at- 
tention from  the  cultivation  and  practice  of  the 
virtues,  and  becomes  a  fermenting  principle  of 
frothy  agitations,  that  either  work  themselves  off  in 
the  sourness  of  an  uncharitable  temper,  or  are  fol- 
lowed by  physical  melancholies,  or  perhaps  by  a 
relaxation  of  the  moral  sentiments,  which  leaves  the 
heart  exposed  to  the  seductions  of  viciou? pleasure. 
Thus  the  religious  life,  instead  of  being  a  sunshine 
of  augmenting  peace  and  hope,  is  made  up  of 
an  alternation  of  ecstasies  and  despondencies;  or 
worse — of  devotional  fervors  and  of  sensual  indul- 
gencies.  The  same  error  naturally  brings  with  it 
a  habit  of  referring  to  other,  and  to  much  less  satis- 
factory tests  of  Christian  character  than  the  influ- 
ence of  religion  upon  the  temper  and  conduct.  So 
it  happens  that  practical  morality,  from  being 
slighted  as  the  only  valid  credential  of  profession, 
comes,  too  often  to  be  thought  of  as  something 
which,  though  it  may  be  well  in  its  way,  is  a  sep- 
arable adjunct  of  true  piety. 


i^  PERVERSIONS    OF 

The  rate  of  general  feeling  at  any  time  in  a 
community  measures  the  height  to  which  the  ex- 
orbitances of  enthusiasm  may  attain;  thus  in  times 
of  peculiar  excitement  a  perverted  notion  of  Divine 
influence  is  seen  to  ripen  into  the  most  fearful  ex- 
cesses. In  such  seasons  it  is  not  enough  that  the 
presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  should  be  indicated  by 
unusual  commotions  of  the  mind;  but  convulsions 
of  the  body  also  are  demanded  in  proof  of  the  heav- 
enly agency.  Extravagance  becomes  gluttonous  of 
marvels;  religion  is  transmuted  into  pantomime;  de- 
lirium and  hypocrisy — often  found  to  be  good 
friends,  take  their  turns  of  triumph;  while  humil- 
ity, meekness,  and  sincerity,  are  trodden  down  in 
the  rout  of  impious  confusion.  Deplorable  excesses 
of  this  kind  happily  are  infrequent,  and  never  of 
long  continuance;  but  it  has  happened  more  than 
once  in  the  history  of  Christianity  that  the  habit  of 
grimace  in  religion,  having  established  itself  in  an 
hour  of  fanatical  agitation,  and  become  associated, 
perhaps,  with  momentous  truths,  as  well  as  with  the 
distinguishing  tenets  of  a  sect,  has  long  survived 
the  warmth  of  feeling  in  which  it  originated,  and 
whence  it  might  derive  some  apology,  and  has  passed 
down  from  father  to  son — a  hideous  mask  of  form- 
ality— worshipped  by  the  weak,  and  loathed,  though 
not  discarded,  by  the  sincere.  Meanwhile  an  here- 
ditary or  a  studied  agitation  of  the  voice  and  mus- 
cles, most  ludicrous,  if  it  were  not  most  horrible  to 
be  seen,  is  made  to  represent  before  the  world  the 
sacred  and  solemn  truth — a  truth  essential  to  Chris- 


THIS    DOCTRINE.  io 

tianity,  that  the  Spirit  of  God  dwells  in  the  hearts 
of  Christians.  Whatever  special  interpretation 
may  be  given  to  our  Lord's  awful  announcement 
concerning  the  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost — an 
announcement  which  stands  out  as  an  anomaly  in 
the  midst  of  his  declarations  of  mercy,  every  devout 
mind  must  regard  it  as  shedding  a  fearful  penumbra 
of  warning  around  the  doctrine  of  divine  influence, 
and  will  admit  an  apprehension  lest  he  should,  by 
any  perversion  of  that  doctrine,  approach  the  pre- 
cincts of  so  tremendous  a  guilt,  or  become  liable  to 
the  charge  of  giving  occasion  in  others  to  unpar- 
donable blasphemies. 

If  it  be  true  that  the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
renovating  the  heart  is  perfectly  congruous  with  the 
natural  movements  of  the  mind,  both  in  its  animal 
and  intellectual  constitution,  it  is  implied  that  what- 
ever natural  means  of  suasion,  or  of  rational  convic- 
tion, are  proper  to  rectify  the  motives  of  mankind, 
will  be  employed  as  the  concomitant,  or  second 
causes  of  the  change.  These  exterior  means  of 
amendment  are,  in  fact,  only  certain  parts  of  the 
entire  machinery  of  human  nature;  nor  can  it 
be  believed  that  its  Author  holds  in  light  esteem 
His  own  wisdom  of  contrivance;  or  is  at  any  time 
obliged  to  break  up  or  to  contemn  the  mechan- 
ism which  He  has  pronounced  to  be  "very  good." 
That  there  actually  exists  no  such  intention  or 
necessity  is  declared  by  the  very  mode  and  form  of 
revealed  religion;  for  this  revelation  consists  of  the 
*7 


74  PERVERSIONS    OF 

common   materials  of  moral  influence — argument, 
history,  poetry,  eloquence.     The  same  authentica- 
tion of  the  natural  modes  of  influence  is  contained 
in  the  establishment  of  the  Christian  ministry,  and  in 
the  warrant  given  to  parental  instruction.     These 
institutions  coijcur  to  proclaim  the  great  law  of  the 
spiritual   world — that   the     heavenly   grace    which 
reforms  the  soul  operates  constantly  in  conjunction 
with  second  causes  and  natural  means.  In  an  accom- 
modated, yet  legitimate  sense  of  the  words,  it  may 
be  affirmed  of  every  such  cause,  that  "the  powers 
that  be  are  of  Godj  there  is  no  power  but  of  His 
ordaining;  and  whosoever  resisteth  (or  would  super- 
sede) the  power,  resisteth  the  ordinance  of  God." 
No  one  can  doubt  the   possibility,  abstractedly, 
of  the  immediate  agency  of  the  Omnipotent  Spirit 
of  Grace  without  the    intervention  of  means;  nor 
does  any  one  doubt  the  power  of  God  to  support 
human  life  without  aliments — for  "man  liveth  not  by 
bread  alone."     But  in  neither  case  does  he    adopt 
this  mode  of  independent  operation:  on  the  con- 
trary, the  Divine  conduct,  wherever  we  can  trace  it, 
is  seen  to  approve  more  of  the  settled  arrangements 
of  wisdom,  than   of  the    bare   exertions  of  power. 
The  treasures  of  that  wisdom  are  surely  never  ex- 
hausted, nor  can  a  case  arise  in  which  immediate 
efforts  of  Omnipotence  become  necessary  merely 
to  supply  the  lack  of  instruments.     Nor  does  the 
vindication  of  the  honors  of  Sovereign  Grace  need 
any  such    naked    interpositions;  for  the    absolute 
necessity  of  an  eflScient  power  above  that  which 


THIS    DOCTRINE.  75 

resides  in  the  natural  means  of  suasion  is  abundantly 
proved; — on  the  one  hand,  by  the  frequent  inefficacy 
of  these  means  when  employed  under  the  most 
favorable  circumstancesj  and  on  the  other,  by  the 
frequent  efficacy  of  means  apparently  inadequate  to 
the  production  of  the  happy  changes  which  result 
from  them.  It  is  not  only  affirmed  by  Scripture, 
but  established  by  experience,  that  "neither  he  that 
planteth,  nor  he  that  watereth,  is  any  thing;"  and  at 
the  same  time  it  is  affirmed  by  the  one,  and  establish- 
ed by  the  other,  that,  apart  from  the  planting  and  the 
Watering  of  the  husbandman,  God  giveth  no  increase. 
No  persuasion  or  instruction,  we  are  assured,  can 
of  itself,  in  any  one  instance,  avail  to  penetrate  the 
death-like  indifference  of  the  human  mind  towards 
spiritual  objects;  but  when  this  torpor  is  removed  by 
inscrutable  grace,  then  the  very  feeblest  and  most  in- 
adequate means  are  sufficient  for  affecting  the  reno- 
vation of  the  heart.  A  single  phrase,  speaking  of 
judgment  to  come,  lisped  by  a  child,  will  prove 
itself  of  power  to  awaken  the  soul  from  the  slumber 
of  the  sensual  life,  if,  when  the  sound  falls  on  the 
ear,  the  spirit  be  quickened  from  above.  In  such  a 
case  it  were  an  error  to  affirm  that  the  change  of 
character  was  effected  independently  of  external 
means;  for  though  they  were  disguised  under  a 
semblance  of  extreme  feebleness,  and  were  such  as 
might  be  easily  overlooked  or  forgotten,  they  had  in 
themselves  the  substantial  powers  of  the  highest 
eloquence;  and  what  might  have  been  added  to 
the   momentous  truth,  so  feebly  announced,  would 


76  PERVERSIONS    OF 

have  been  little  more  than  embellishment — like  the 
embroideries  and  embossments  of  the  warrior's  gar- 
niture, which  add  nothing  to  the  vigor  of  his  arm. 

Two  causes  seem  to  have  operated  in  maintain- 
ing the  notion  that  divine  influence  is  dissociated 
from  concurrent  means  of  suasion; — The  first  of 
these  is  an  ill-judged  but  excusable  jealousy  on 
the  part  of  pious  persons  for  the  honor  of  sovereign 
grace;  and  is  a  mere  re-action  upon  orthodoxy  from 
the  Pelagian  and  Semi-Pelagian  heresies:  such 
persons  have  thought  it  necessary,  for  the  safety 
of  a  most  important  doctrine,  not  merely  to  assert 
the  supremacy  of  the  ultimate  agent;  but  to  dispar- 
age, as  much  as  possible,  the  intermediate  agency. 
The  second  of  these  causes  is  the  imaginary  diffi- 
culty felt  by  those  who  having  unadvisedly  plunged 
into  the  depths  of  metaphysical  theology,  when 
they  should  have  busied  themselves  only  with  the 
plain  things  of  religion,  cannot  adjust  their  notions 
of  divine  aid  and  human  responsibility;  and,  there- 
fore, if  they  would  be  zealous  for  the  honor  due  to 
the  first,  think  themselves  obliged  almost  to  nullify 
the  second.  If  any  such  difficulty  actually  exists,  it 
should  be  made  to  rest  upon  the  operations  of  na- 
ture, where  it  meets  us  not  less  than  in  the  pre- 
cincts of  theology;  and  the  husbandnian  should  de- 
sist from  his  toils  until  schoolmen  have  demonstrated 
to  him  the  rationale  of  the  combined  operations  of 
first  and  second  causes.  Or  if  such  a  demonstra- 
tion must  not  be  waited  for,  and  if  the  husbandman 
is  to  commit  the  precious  grain,  to  the  earth,  and 


THIS    DOCTRINE.  77 

to  use  all  his  skill  and  industry  in  favoring  the  in- 
scrutable process  of  nature,  then  let  the  theologian 
pursue  a  parallel  course,  satisfied  to  know  that 
while  the  Scriptures  affirm  in  the  clearest  terms 
whatever  may  enhance  our  ideas  of  the  necessity 
and  sovereignty  of  divine  grace,  they  no  where  give 
intimation  of  a  suspended  or  a  halved  responsibility 
on  the  part  of  man;  but,  on  the  contrary,  use,  with- 
out scruple,  language  which  implies  that  the  spirit- 
ual welfare  of  those  who  are  taught,  depends  on 
the  zeal  and  labors  of  the  teacher,  as  truly  as  the 
temporal  welfare  of  children  depends  on  the  indus- 
try of  a  father.  The  practical  consequences  of  such 
speculative  confusions  are  seen  in  the  frightful  apa- 
thy and  culpable  negligence  of  some  instructors 
and  parents,  who,  because  a  metaphysical  problem, 
which  ought  never  to  have  been  heard  of  beyond 
the  walls  of  colleges,  obstructs  their  understandings, 
have  acquired  the  habit  of  gazing  with  indifference 
upon  the  profkneness  and  immoralities  of  those 
whom  their  diligence  might  have  retained  in  the 
path  of  piety  and  virtue. 

Another  capital  perversion  remains  to  complete 
the  enthusiastic  abuse  of  the  doctrine  of  divine  in- 
fluence; and  this  is  the  supposition  that  the  heav- 
enly communications  to  the  soul  are  not  always 
confined  to  the  matter  or  to  the  rule  of  Scripture, 
and  that  the  favored  subject  of  this  teaching,  at 
least  when  he  has  made  considerable  advances  in 
the  divine  life,  is  led  on  a  high  path  of  instruction, 
where   the    written  revelation  of  the  will  of  God 


78 


PERVERSIONS    OF 


may  be  neglected  or  scorned.  This  impious  de- 
lusion assumes  two  forms,  the  first  is  that  of  the 
tranquil  contemplatist,  the  whole  of  whose  religion 
is  inarticulate  and  vague,  and  who  neglects  or  re- 
jects the  Scriptures,  not  so  much  because  he  is 
averse  to  its  truths,  as  because  the  mistiness  of  his 
sentiments  abhors  whatever  is  distinct,  and  definite, 
and  fixed.  To  read  a  plain  narrative  of  intelligible 
facts,  and  to  derive  from  it  practical  instruction, 
implies  a  state  of  mind  essentially  different  from 
that  which  he  finds  necessary  to  his  factitious  hap- 
piness: before  he  can  thus  read  his  Bible  in  child- 
like simplicity  he  must  forsake  the  region  of  dreams, 
and  open  his  eyes  to  the  world  of  realities: — in  a 
word,  he  must  cease  to  be  an  enthusiast. 

The  other  form  of  this  delusion  should  excite 
pity  rather  than  provoke  rebuke;  and  calls  for  the 
skill  of  the  physician,  more  than  for  the  instruc- 
tions of  the  theologian.  The  limits  of  insanity  have 
not  yet  been  ascertained: — perhaps  it  has  none; 
and  certainly  there  are  facts  that  favor  the  belief 
that  the  interval  between  common  weakness  of 
judgment  and  outrageous  madness  is  filled  up  by 
an  insensible  gradation  of  absurdity,  no  where  ad- 
mitting of  a  line  of  absolute  separation.  Where, 
for  example,  shall  we  pause,  and  separate  the  sane 
from  the  insane,  among  those  who  believe  them- 
selves to  be  favored  perpetually  with  special,  par- 
ticular, and  ultra-scriptural  revelations  from  heaven? 
— The  most  modest  enthusiast  of  this  class,  and  the 
most  daring  visionary,  stand   together  on  the  same 


THIS    DOCTRINE.  79 

ground  of  outlawry  from  common  sense  and  scrip- 
tural authority;  and  though  their  several  offences 
against  truth  and  sobriety  may  be  of  greater  or  less 
amount,  they  must  both  be  dealt  with  on  the  same 
principle;  for  both  have  alike  excluded  themselves 
from  the  benefit  of  appeal  to  the  only  authorities 
known  among  the  sane  part  of  mankind — reason 
and  Scripture:  those  who  reject  both  surrender 
themselves  over  to  pity — and  compulsion. 

It  would  manifestly  be  better  that  men  should 
be  left  to  the  darkness  and  wanderings  of  unas- 
sisted reason,  than  that  they  should  receive  the  im- 
mediate instructions  of  heaven,  unless  they  possess 
at  the  same  time  a  public  and  fixed  rule  to  which 
all  such  supernatural  instructions  are  to  be  con- 
formed, and  by  which  they  are  to  be  discriminated: 
for  the  errors  of  reason,  how  great  soever  they  may 
be,  carry  with  them  no  weight  of  divine  authority; 
but  if  the  doctrine  of  divine  communications  be 
admitted — and  admitted  without  reference  to  a  pub- 
lic and  permanent  standard  of  truth,  then  every  ex- 
travagance of  impiety  may  claim  a  heavenly  origin; 
and  who  shall  venture  to  rebuke  even  the  most 
pestilent  error;  for  how  shall  the  reprover  assure 
himself  that  he  is  not  fighting  against  God? 

It  has  already  been  affirmed  that  enthusiasm,  far 
from  being  necessarily  or  invariably  connected  with 
fervor  of  feeling,  is  often  seen  to  exist  in  its  wildest 
excesses  conjoined  with  the  most  frigid  style  of  re- 
ligious sentiment.  Thus,  for  example,  the  three 
egregious  perversions  of  the  doctrine  of  divine  in- 


80  PERVERSIONS    OF    THIS    DOCTRINE. 

fluence,  which  have  been  described  in  the  preced- 
ing pages,  are  maintained,  and  have  been  profes- 
sed and  defended  during  several  generations,  by  a 
sect  remarkable  for  the  chilliness  of  its  piety,  its 
contempt  of  the  natural  expressions  of  devotional 
feeling,  and  even  for  a  peculiar  shrewdness  of  good 
sense  in  matters  of  worldly  interest.  But  the  in- 
congruities of  human  nature  are  immense  and  in- 
calculable; or  it  would  not  be  seen  that  general 
intelligence,  and  amiable  manners,  and  Christian 
benevolence,  are  often  linked  with  errors  which, 
when  viewed  abstractedly,  seem  as  if  they  could 
belong  only  to  minds  in  the  last  stage  of  folly  and 
impiety. 


SECTION    IV. 

ENTHUSIASM  THE   SOURCE    OF   HERESY. 

The  creed  of  the  Christian  is  the  fruit  of  expo- 
sition: no  part  of  it  is  elaborated  by  processes  of 
abstract  reasoning;  no  part  is   furnished  by  the  in- 
ventive faculties.     To  ascertain  the  true  meaning 
of  the  words  and  phrases  used  by  those  who  "spake 
as  they  were  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost,"  is  the  sin- 
gle aim  of  the  studies  of  the  theologian.     Interpre- 
tation is  his  sole  function.     But  the  work  of  inter- 
pretation, considered  as  an  intellectual  employment, 
differs  essentially  from  that  of  the  student  of  physical 
or  abstract  science;  for  it  neither  needs  nor  admits 
of  the  ardor  by  which  those  pursuits  are  animated. 
Nor  has  nature  furnished  the  faculties  that  are  em- 
ployed in  the  labor  of  expounding  the  terms  of  an- 
cient  documents   with  any  vivid  susceptibility    to 
pleasurable  excitement.      The  toils  of  the  lawyer, 
of  the    philologist,   and    of   the    theologian,    must 
therefore  be  sustained  by  a  reference  to  substan- 
tial motives  of  utility;  and  though  there  may  be  a 
very  few  minds  so  peculiarly  constituted  as  to  cul- 
tivate these  studies  with  enthusiastic  ardor  from  the 


o:^  THE    ENTHUSIASM 

pure  impulse  of  native  taste,  the  ranks  of  a  numer- 
ous body  of  men  can  never  be  filled  up  by  sponta- 
neous laborers  of  this  sort. 

Christianity,  being  as  it  is,  exclusively  a  religion 
of  documents  and  of  interpretation,  must  utterly 
exclude  from  its  precincts  the  adventurous  spirit  of 
innovation.  Theology  offers  no  field  to  men  fond 
of  intellectual  enterprise:  the  Church  has  no  work 
for  them — none  until  they  have  renounced  the 
characteristic  propensity  of  their  mental  conforma- 
tion. True  Religion,  unlike  human  Science,  was 
given  to  mankind  in  a  finished  form,  and  is  to  be 
learned  not  improved:  and  though  the  most  capa- 
cious human  mind  is  nobly  employed  while  concen- 
trating all  its  vigor  upon  the  acquirement  of  this 
documentary  learning,  it  is  very  fruitlessly,  and  very 
perniciously  occupied  in  attempting  to  give  it  a 
single  touch   of  perfectionment. 

The  form  under  which  Christianity  now  presents 
itself  as  an  object  of  study  does,  in  a  much  greater 
degree,  discourage  and  prevent  speculation  and 
novelty,  than  it  did  in  the  early  ages;  and  if  all  the 
varieties  of  opinion  which  have  appeared  during  the 
eighteen  centuries  of  Church  history  are  numbered, 
a  large  majority  of  them  will  be  found  to  belong  to 
the  first  three  centuries,  and  to  the  eastern  church. 
That  is  to  say,  to  the  period  when  doctors  of  theol- 
ogy, possessing  the  rule  of  faith  in  their  vernacular 
tongue,  had  no  other  intellectual  employment  than 
either  to  invent  novelties  of  doctrine,  or  to  refute 
them.     Other  causes  may,  no  doubt,  be  fairly  alleg- 


OF    HERESY. 


ed  as  having  had  influence  in  quickening  that  pro- 
digious efflorescence  of  heretical  doctrine  which  in- 
fected the  whole  atmosphere  of  Christianity  in  the 
east  during  the  second  and  third  centuries,  and  at  a 
time  when  the  Wesiern  Church  maintained,  in  a 
high  degree,  the  simplicity  of  Scriptural  faith;  but 
the  cause  above-mentioned  ought  not  to  be  ranked 
among  the  least  efficient. 

Theology  in  modern  times  offers  an  unbounded 
field  of  toil  to  the  student — the  toil  of  mere  acquisi- 
tion and  of  critical  research:  for  a  familiar  knowl- 
edge of  three  languages;  at  least,  is  indispensable 
to  every  man  who  would  take  respectable  rank  as  a 
teacher  of  Christianity;  especially  to  every  one  who 
aspires  to  distinction  in  his  order:  and  some  acquaint- 
ance with  two  or  three  other  languages  is  also  an 
object  of  reasonable  ambition  to  the  theological 
student.  And  moreover,  an  accomplished  expound- 
er of  Scripture  must  be  well  versed  in  profane  and 
church  history;  nor  may  he  be  entirely  ignorant 
of  even  the  abstract  and  physical  sciences.  These 
multifarious  pursuits,  which  are  to  be  acquired  com- 
patibly with  the  discharge  of  the  public  duties  of  the 
pastoral  office,  assuredly  furnish  employment  enough 
for  the  most  active  and  the  most  industrious  mind 
long  beyond  the  period  of  college  initiation.  Nor 
are  we  to  calculate  merely  upon  the  natural  intlu- 
ence  produced  upon  the  intellectual  habits  by  these 
employments,  in  preventing  that  discursiveness  of 
the  inventive  faculties  which  is  a  principal  source  of 
heresy;  for  its  quality,  not  less  than  its  quantity,  is 


84  THE    ENTHUSIASM 

decidedly  corrective  of  tiie  propensity  to  generate 
novelties  of  opinion. 

Every  one  who  has  made  the  experiment  well 
knows  that  the  toils  of  learned  acquisition  have  a 
direct  tendency  to  impair  the  freshness  and  force  of 
the  intellectual  constitution,  to  chill  and  cloud  the 
imagination,  to  break  the  elasticity  of  the  inventive 
faculty;  if  not  to  blunt  the  keenness  of  the  powers 
of  analysis.  Thus  they  indispose  the  mind  to  the 
wantonness  of  speculation,  and  impart  to  it  rather 
the  timidity,  the  acquiescence,  the  patience,  which 
are  proper  to  the  submissive  exposition  of  an  authori- 
tative rule  of  faith.  Biblical  learning,  therefore, 
not  only  serves  directly  to  dispel  errors  of  opinion 
by  throwing  open  the  true  sense  of  Scripture;  but 
it  contains  within  itself  a  physical  preventative 
against  heresy,  which,  if  it  be  not  always  efficacious, 
is  perceptibly  operative.  Nothing  then  can  be 
more  desirable  than  that  public  opinion  should  con- 
tinue, as  it  now  does,  to  demand  erudition  from  the 
teachers  of  religion.* 

*  The  preposterous  errors  of  the  German  theologians  may  seem  to  stand 
in  contradiction  to  the  principle  here  advanced;  for  assuredly  heresy  and 
erudition  have  with  them  been  conjoined.  But  in  fact  there  is  nothing  in 
the  German  neology  of  the  richness,  and  fertility,  and  variety  of  the  an- 
cient eastern  heresies;  nothing  which  the  dullest  infidelity  might  not  imag- 
ine. After  giving  to  these  professors  the  praise  of  immense  reading,  the 
utmost  merit  that  can  be  allowed  them  is  that  of  possessing  the  ingenuity 
and  adroit  evasiveness  of  practised  sophists.  Having  borrowed  from  the 
illustrious  atheists  of  France  whatever  in  their  system  may  seem  to  pos- 
sess the  grace  of  intelligence,  they  have  plied,  with  success,  the  petty 
craft  of  disguising  the  stolen  doctrine  under  the  names  and  forms  of 
Christianity. 


OF    HERESY.  85 

Nevertheless,  when  a  large  class  of  men  is  pro- 
fessionally devoted  to  the  study  of  theology,  there 
will  not  be  wanting  some  whose  mental  conforma- 
tion (not  to  mention  motives  which  are  foreign  to 
our  subject)  impels  them  to  abandon  the  modest 
path  of  exposition,  and  to  seek,  within  the  precincts 
of  religion,  for  the  intellectual  gratifications  that 
accompany  abstruse  speculation — discovery — inven- 
tion— exaggeration,  and  paradox.  All  these  pleas- 
ures of  a  morbid  or  misdirected  intellectual  activity 
may  be  obtained  in  the  regions  of  theology,  not  less 
than  in  those  of  mathematical  and  physical  science, 
if  once  the  restraints  of  a  religious  and  heartfelt  rev- 
erence for  the  authority  of  the  word  of  God  are  dis- 
carded. The  principal  heresies  that  have  disturbed 
the  Church  may,  no  doubt,  fairly  be  attributed  to 
motives  springing  from  the  pride  or  perverse  dis- 
positions of  the  human  heart;  but  often  a  mere  in- 
tellectual enthusiasm  has  been  the  real  source  of 
false  doctrine. 

Errors  generated  in  this  manner  possess,  commonly, 
some  aspect  of  beauty,  or  of  greatness,  or  of  philo- 
sophical simplicity  to  recommend  them;  for  as  they 
were  framed  amid  a  pleasurable  excitement  of  the 
mind,  so  they  will  have  power  to  convey  a  kindred 
delight  to  others.  And  such  exorbitances  of  doc- 
trine, when  advanced  by  men  of  powerful  or  richly 
furnished  minds,  conceal  their  deformity  and  evil 
tendency  beneath  the  attractions  of  intellisence. 
But  the  very  same  extravagances  and  showy  para- 
doxes when  caught  up  by  inferior  spirits,  presently 


bo  THE    ENTHUSIASM 

lose  their  garb,  not  only  of  beauty,  but  of  decency, 
and  show  themselves  in  the  loathsome  nakedness  of 
error.  The  mischief  of  heresy  is  often  more  active 
and  conspicuous  in  second  hands  than  in  those  of 
its  authors;  and  the  reason  is  that  it  is  usually 
the  child  of  intellectualists — a  harmless  order  of 
men:  but  no  sooner  has  it  been  brought  forth 
and  reared,  than  it  joins  itself,  as  by  instinct,  to 
minds  of  vulgar  quality,  and  in  that  society  soon 
learns  the  dialect  of  impiety  and  licentiousness. 
The  heresiarch,  though  he  may  be  more  blame- 
worthy, is  often  much  less  audacious,  and  less  cor- 
rupted, than  his  followers;  foir  he,  perhaps,  is  only 
an  enthusiast;  they  have  become  fanatics. 

In  like  manner  as  the  passion  for  travel  impels  a  man 
to  perambulate  the  earth,  and  then  makes  him  sigh  to 
think  that  he  has  not  other  continents  to  explore,  so 
the  constitutional  enthusiasm  of  speculation  urges 
its  victim  to  traverse  the  entire  circuit  of  opinions; 
and  even  then  leaves  him  insatiate  of  novelty.  It  is 
not  caprice,  much  less  is  it  the  excessive  solicitude 
of  an  honest  mind,  always  inquiring  for  truth;  but 
rather  the  impetus  of  a  too  highly-wrought  intellec- 
tual activity,  which  carries  the  heretic  onward  and 
onward,  from  system  to  system,  blazing  as  he  goes, 
until  there  remains  no  form  of  flagrant  error  with 
which  he  has  not  scared  the  sober  world.  Then, 
though  reason  may  have  forgotten  all  consistency, 
pride  has  a  better  memory;  and  as  this  passion  for- 
bids his  return  to  the  centre  truths  he  has  so  often 
denounced,  and  denounced  from  all  points  of  his 


OF    HERESY.  87 

various  course,  nothing  remains  for  him,  when  the 
season  of  exhaustion  arrives,  but  to  go  off  into  the 
dark  void  of  infidelity. 

The  sad  story  has  been  often  realized.  In  the 
confirmation  of  the  heretic  by  temperament  there  is 
more  of  intellectual  mobility  than  of  strength:  a 
ready  perception  of  analogies  gives  him  both  facility 
and  felicity  in  collecting  proofs,  or  rather  illustra- 
tions, in  support  of  whatever  opinion  he  adopts.  So 
copious  are  the  materials  of  conjectural  argument 
which  crowd  upon  him,  and  so  nice  is  his  tact  of 
selection,  and  so  quick  his  skill  of  arrangement,  that 
ere  dull  sobriety  has  gathered  up  its  weapons,  he  has 
reared  a  most  imposing  front  of  defence.  Pleased 
and  even  surprised  with  his  own  work,  he  now  con- 
fidently maintains  a  position  which  at  first  he  scarcely 
thought  to  be  seriously  defensible.  Having  con- 
vinced himself  of  the  certainty  of  the  new  truth,  and 
implicated  his  vanity  in  its  support,  deeper  motives 
stimulate  the  activity  of  the  reasoning  and  inventive 
faculties;  and  he  presently  piles  demonstration  upon 
demonstration  to  a  most  amazing  height,  until  it 
becomes,  in  his  honest  opinion,  sheer  infatuation  to 
doubt.  In  this  state  of  mind,  of  what  value  are  the 
opinions  of  teachers  and  of  elders?  Of  what  weight 
the  belief  of  the  catholic  church  in  all  ages?  They 
are  nothing  to  be  accounted  of; — there  seems  even 
a  glory  and  a  heroism,  as  well  as  a  duty,  in  spurning 
the  fallible  authority  of  man: — modesty,  caution, 
hesitation,  are  treasons  against  conscience  and 
heaven! 


6»  THE    ENTHUSIASM 

The  young  heresiarch,  we  will  suppose,  to  have 
spent  the  earliest  season  of  life,  while  yet  the  ingen- 
uousness of  youth  remained  unimpaired,  in  the 
pursuits  of  literature  or  science,  and  to  have  been 
ignorant  of  Christianity  otherwise  than  as  a  system 
of  forms  and  offices.  But  the  moment  of  awakening 
arrives;  some  appalling  accident  or  piercing  sorrow 
sets  the  interests  of  time  in  abeyance,  and  opens 
upon  the  soul  the  vast  objects  of  immortality.  Or 
the  eloquence  of  a  preacher  may  effect  the  change. 
In  these  first  moments  of  a  new  life,  the  great  and 
common  doctrines  of  religion,  perceived  in  the 
freshness  of  novelty,  afford  scope  enough  to  the 
ardor  of  the  spirit;  and  perhaps  also,  a  new  senti- 
ment of  submission  quells,  in  some  measure,  that 
ardor: — the  craving  of  the  mind  does  not  yet  need 
heresy — truth  has  stimulus  enough;  and  even  after 
truth  has  become  somewhat  vapid,  the  restraints  of 
connection  and  friendship  have  force  to  retain  the 
convert  three  years,  or  five,  in  the  bosom  of  humil- 
ity. But  the  first  accidental  contact  with  doctrinal 
paradox  kindles  the  constitutional  passion,  and 
rouses  the  slumbering  faculties  to  the  full  activity  of 
adult  vigor;  contention  ensues — malign  sentiments, 
though  perhaps  foreign  to  the  temper,  are  engen- 
dered, and  these  impart  gloom  to  mysticism,  and  add 
ferocity  to  extravagance.  Then,  no  dogma  that  is 
obnoxious,  terrific,  intolerant,  schismatical,  fails  to 
be,  in  its  turn,  avowed  by  the  delirious  bigot,  who 
burns  with  ambition  to  render  himself  the  enemy, 
not  of  the  world  only,  but  of  the  church. 


OF    HERESY  89 

But  will  even  the  last  extravagance  of  false  doc- 
trine allay  the  diseased  cravings  of  the  brain?     Not 
unless  the   physical  inertness  which,  towards    the 
middle  period  of  life,  sometimes  affects  the  cure  of 
folly,  or  perhaps  some  motive  of  secular  interest 
supervenes.     Otherwise  a    progression    must    take 
place,   or  a  retrogression;  and  when  the   heart  is 
sick  and  faint  from  the  exhaustion  of  over  activity, 
when  the  whispers  of  conscience  have  long  ceased 
to  be  heard,  when  the    emotions  of  genuine  piety 
have  become  painfully  strange  to  the  soul,  nothing 
is  so  probable  as  an  almost  sudden  plunge  from  the 
pinnacle  of  high  belief;   into  the  bottomless  gulf  of 
universal  scepticism.     A  lamentable  catastrophe  of 
this  kind,  and  which  is  nothing  more  than  the  nat- 
ural issue  of  an  intellectual  enthusiasm,  would,  no 
doubt,  much  oftener  take  place  than  it  does,  if  the 
slenderest  reasons  of  worldly  prudence    were   not 
found  to  be  of  firmer  texture  than  all  the  logic  of 
theology. 

A  chronic  intellectual  enthusiasm,  when  it  be- 
comes the  source  of  heresy,  most  frequently  betakes 
itself  to  those  exaggerations  of  Christian  doctrine 
which  pass  under  the  general  designation  of  Anti- 
nomianism;  not  the  Antinomianism  of  workshops, 
which  is  a  corruption  of  Christianity  concocted  by 
mercenary  teachers  expressly  to  give  licence  to  the 
sensualities  of  those  by  whom  they  are  salaried; 
but  the  Antinomianism  of  the  closet,  which  is  a 
translation  into  Christian  phraseology  of  the  ancient 


90  THE    ENTHUSIASM 

Stoicism.  The  alleged  relationship  consists,  not  so 
much  in  the  similar  abuse  which  is  made  in  both 
systems  of  the  doctrine  of  necessity,  but  in  the 
leading  intention  of  both,  which  is  to  enclose  the 
human  mind  in  a  perfect  envelop  of  abstractions, 
such  as  may  effectively  defend  it  from  the  importu- 
nate sense  of  responsibility,  or  obligation,  and  such 
as  shall  render  him  who  wears  it  a  passive  spectator 
of  his  own  destinies.  The  doctrine  of  fate  was 
seized  upon  by  the  stoics,  and  is  taken  up  by  Anti- 
nomians,  because,  better  than  any  other  principle,  it 
serves  the  purposes  of  this  peculiar  species  of  illu- 
sory delectation.  Yet  the  Christian  stoic  has  some 
signal  advantages  over  his  ancestor  of  the  porch. 
For  example:  the  egregious  absurdities  of  the  an- 
cient philosophist  stood  on  the  very  walk  of  life, 
and  in  the  way  of  constant  collision  with  the  com- 
mon sense  of  mankind:  and  thus  the  sage,  in  spite 
of  his  gravity  and  self-command,  could  hardly  pass 
a  day  in  public  without  being  put  to  shame  by  some 
glaring  proof  of  practical  inconsistency;  for  as 
often  as  he  spoke  or  acted  like  other  men — as  often 
as  he  made  it  evident  that  he  did  not  really  think 
himself  a  statue  or  a  phantom,  he  gave  the  lie  direct 
to  the  fooleries  of  his  profession. 

But  the  modern  stoic,  while  by  an  adroit — or  let 
us  say  a  sinister  inference  from  his  doctrine,  he  takes 
large  leave  of  indulgence  to  the  flesh,  and  borrows 
the  practical  part  of  epicureanism,  transfers  his 
egregious  dogmas  to  the  unseen  world,  where  they 
come  not  in  immediate  contact  with  common  sense. 


OF    HERESY  91 

In  the  vast  unknown  of  an  eternity  on  both  sides 
of  time,  he  finds  range  enougFi,  and  immunity  for 
even  the  most  enormous  paradoxes  which  ingenu- 
ity can  devise,  or  sophistry  defend.  Besides,  the 
argumentative  resources  of  the  modern,  are  incom- 
parably more  copious  and  various  and  tangible 
than  those  of  the  ancient  stoic;  for  the  latter  could 
only  fall  back,  ever  and  again,  upon  the  same  ab- 
stractions; but  the  former  may  take  position  on  any 
part  of  a  very  wide  frontier;  for  having  so  large  and 
multifarious  a  volume  as  the  Scriptures  in  his  hand, 
and  having  multiplied  the  argumentative  value  of 
every  sentence  it  contains,  almost  indefinitely,  by 
adopting  the  rule  of  Origen  and  the  Rabbis,  that 
the  whole  of  Scripture  is  mystical,  and  may  bear 
every  sense  that  can  be  found  in  it,  he  is  at  once 
secure  from  the  possibility  of  being  confuted,  and 
revels  in  an  unbounded  opulence  of  proof  and  illus- 
tration in  support  of  his  positions.  To  the  sober 
interpreter  the  Bible  is  one  book;  but  to  the  Anti- 
nomian  it  is  as  a  hundred  volumes. 

With  a  field  so  wide,  and  means  so  inexhaustible, 
the  stoic  of  Christianity  lives  in  a  paradise  of  spec- 
ulation, and  no  revolution  to  which  human  nature  is 
liable  can  be  less  probable  than  that  which  must 
take  place  before  he  abandons  his  world  of  facti- 
tious happiness.  The  dreamer  must  feel  that  sin  is 
a  substantial  ill,  in  which  himself  is  fatally  impli- 
cated, not  a  mere  abstraction  to  be  discoursed  of; 
he  must  learn  that  the  righteous  God  deals  with 
mankind  on  terms    perfectly  adapted  t9  the   intel- 


92 


THE    ENTHUSIASM 


lectual  and  moral  conformation  of  human  nature,  of 
which  He  is  the  author;  and  he  must  know  that  sal- 
vation is  a  deliverance,  in  which  man  is  an  agent, 
not  less  than  a  recipient. 

It  belongs  not  at  all  to  our  subject  to  attempt  a 
confutation  of  this — the  most  pestiferous  of  the 
many  corruptions  which  Christianity  has  undergone: 
our  part  is  merely  to  exhibit  against  the  system  the 
charge  of  enthusiasm;  and  this  charge  needs  no 
other  proof  than  the  plain  statement,  that,  whereas 
Christianity  recognizes  the  moral  sentiments,  and 
enhances  the  sense  of  responsibility,  and  authenti- 
cates the  voice  of  conscience,  Antinomianism  spurns 
all  such  sentiments,  and  substitutes  bare  specula- 
tions in  their  room;  and  these  speculations  are  of  a 
kind  that  cherishes  the  idle  and  selfish  deliriums  of 
luxurious  contemplation.  But  this  is  the  specific 
description  of  enthusiasm.  Whoever  in  any  such 
manner  cuts  himself  off  from  the  common  sympa- 
thies of  our  nature,  and  makes  idiot  sport  of  the 
energies  of  moral  action,  and  has  recourse  either  to 
a  jargon  of  sophistries,  or  to  trivial  evasions  when 
other  men  act  upon  the  intuitions  of  good  sense, 
and  rebuts  every  idea  that  does  not  minister  gratifi- 
cation, such  a  man  must  be  called  an  enthusiast, 
even  though  he  were  at  the  same  time — if  that  were 
possible — a  saint. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  enthusiasm  of  mysticism. 
But  there  is  also  an  enthusiasm  of  simplification. 
The  lowest  intellectual  temperature,  not  less  than 


OF    HERESY.  03 

the  highest,  admits  extravagance,  and  sometimes 
even  admits  it  more;  for  warmth  and  movement  are 
less  unnatural  in  the  world  of  matter  or  of  mind 
than   congelation; — what  so  grotesque  as  the    cor- 
uscations   of  frost?     If  the  reasoning  faculty  had 
not  its  enthusiasm,  the  sciences  would  never  have 
moved  a  step  in  advance  of  the  mechanic  arts,  much 
less  would  the  high  theorems  of  pure  mathematics, 
or  the  abstruse  principles  of  metaphysics,  have  been 
known  to  mankind.     But  if  this  natural  and  useful 
impulse  is  irregular  and  excessive,  it  becomes  the 
spring  of  errors.     Yet  the  improvements  and  the 
seneral  diffusion  of  science  in  modern  times  operate 
so  effectually  to  keep  in  check  that  propensity  to 
absurd  speculation,  of  which  the  elements  are  always 
in  existence,  that  if  we  are  in  search  of  specimens 
of  this  species  of  intellectual  disease,  we  must  ex- 
pect to  meet  with  them  only  without   the  pale  of 
education,  and  among  the  self-taught  philosophers  of 
workshops,  who  sometimes  amuse  the  hour  of  stolen 
leisure  in  digesting  systems  of  the  universe — other 
than  the  one  which  is  demonstrated  in  our  univer- 
sities. 

Driven  from  the  enclosures  where  the  demonstra- 
ble sciences  hold  empire,  the  enthusiasts  of  specu- 
lation turn  off  upon  ground  where  there  is  more 
scope,  more  obscurity,  more  licence,  and  less  of  the 
stern  and  instant  magistracy  of  right  reason.  Some 
give  themselves  to  politics,  some  to  political  econo- 
my, and  some  to  theology;  and  whatever  they  sever- 
ally meet  with  that  is  in  its  nature,  or  that  has  be- 
9 


94  THE    ENTHUSIASM 

come  concrete,  complex,  or  multifariously  involved, 
they  seize  upon  with  a  hungry  avidity.  The  disease 
of  the  brain  has  settled  upon  the  faculty  of  analysis; 
— all  things  compound  must  therefore  be  severed, 
and  not  only  be  severed,  but  left  in  disunion.  It 
cannot  but  happen  that  in  these  zealous  labors  of 
dissolution  some  happy  strokes  must  now  and  then 
fall  upon  errors  which  wiser  men  have  either  not 
observed,  or  have  spared:  mankind  owes  therefore  a 
petty  debt  of  gratitude  to  such  eager  speculatists, 
for  having  removed  a  few  excresences  from  ancient 
systems.  But  these  trivial  successes,  which  are 
hailed  with  a  din  of  applause  by  the  vulgar,  who 
delight  in  witnessing  any  kind  of  destruction,  and  by 
the  splenetic,  who  believe  themselves  to  gain  what- 
ever is  torn  from  others,  inspire  the  heroes  of  reform 
with  unbounded  hopes  of  effecting  universal  revolu- 
tions; and  they  actually  become  inflated  to  so  high 
a  degree  of  presumption,  that,  at  a  time  when  all 
the  great  questions  which  can  occupy  the  human 
mind  have  been  thoroughly  discussed — and  discuss- 
ed with  every  advantage  of  liberty,  of  learning,  and 
of  ability,  they  are  not  ashamed  to  adopt  a  style  of 
speaking  as  if  they  thought  themselves  morning 
stars  on  the  verge  of  the  dark  ages,  destined  to 
usher  in  the  splendors  of  true  philosophy  upon  a 
benighted  world. 

Or  of  true  religion; — as  if  the  Christian  doctrine, 
in  its  most  essential  principles,  had  become  extinct, 
even  in  the  days  of  the  apostles,  and  had  remained 
"under  the  bushel"  of  superstition,  not  only  during 


OF    HERESY.  95 

the  ages  of  religious  despotism,  but  long  after  the 
chains  of  that  despotism  have  been  broken,  and 
after  the  human  mind,  v\  th  all  the  vigor  and  intens- 
ity of  renovated  intelligence,  and  renovated  piety, 
has  given  its  utmost  force,  and  its  utmost  diligence, 
to  the  exposition  of  the  canon  of  faith.  Of  what 
sort  were  this  canon,  if  its  meaning  on  the  most 
important  points  may,  age  after  age,  be  utterly  mis- 
understood by  ninety-nine  learned,  honest,  and  un- 
shackled men  and  be  perceived  only  by  the  one? 
Yet  this  is  the  supposition  of  simplificators,  who, 
from  mere  impulse  of  a  faulty  cerebral  conforma- 
tion, must  needs  disbelieve,  because  theology  would 
otherwise  afford  them  no  intellectual  exercise. 

It  is  a  common  notion,  incessantly  repeated,  and 
never  sifted,  that  diversity  of  opinion,  on  even 
the  cardinal  points  of  Christian  faith,  is  an  inevita- 
ble and  a  permanent  evil,  springing,  and  always  to 
spring  from  the  diversity  of  men's  dispositions  and 
intellectual  faculties.  Certainly  no  other  expecta- 
tion could  be  entertained  if  Christian  theology  were 
what  moral  philosophy  was  among  the  sophists  of 
ancient  Athens — a  system  of  abstractions,  owning 
subjection  to  no  authority.  But  this  is  not  the  fact; 
and  though  hitherto  the  ultimate  authority  has  been 
much  abused  or  spurned,  the  re-establishment  of 
its  power  on  fixed  and  well  understood  principles 
seems  far  from  an  improbable  event.  We  say  more, 
that  an  actual  progression  towards  so  happy  a  revo- 
lution is  perceptible  in  our  own  times.     We  do  not 


96 


THE    ENTHUSIASM 


for  a  moment  forget  that  a  heartfelt  acquiescence  in 
the  doctrines  of  Scripture  must  ever  be  the  result  of 
a  divine  influence,  and  is  not  to  be  effected  by  the 
same  means  which  produce  uniformity  of  opinion 
on  matters  of  science.  But  while  we  anticipate, 
on  grounds  of  strong  hope,  "a  time  of  refreshing" 
from  above,  which  shall  subdue  the  depraved  repug- 
nancies of  the  human  mind,  we  may  also  antici- 
pate, on  grounds  of  common  reasoning,  a  natural 
process  of  reform  in  theology — considered  as  a  sci- 
ence, which  shall  place  the  intrinsic  absurdities  of 
heresy  in  the  broad  light  of  day,  henceforward  to  be 
contemned  and  avoided. 

The  fields  of  error  have  been  fully  reaped  and 
gleaned;  nor  shall  aught  that  is  new  spring  up  on 
that  field,  the  whole  botany  of  which  is  already 
known  and  classified.  It  is  only  of  late  that  a  fair, 
a  competent,  and  an  elaborate  discussion  of  all  the 
principal  questions  of  theology  has  taken  place; 
and  the  great  result  of  this  discussion  waits  now  to 
be  manifested  by  some  new  movement  of  the  human 
mind.  Great  and  happy  revolutions  usually  stand 
ready  and  latent  for  a  time,  until  accident  brings 
them  forward.  Such  a  change  and  renovation  we 
believe  to  be  at  the  door  of  the  Christian  Church. 
The  ground  of  controversy  has  contracted  itself 
daily  during  the  last  half  century; — the  grotesque 
and  many-colored  forms  of  ancient  heresy  have  dis- 
appeared, and  the  existing  differences  of  opinion, 
some  of  which  are  indeed  of  vital  consequence,  all 
draw  round  a  single  controversy,  the  final  decision 


OF    HERESY.  97 

of  which  it  is  hard  to  believe  shall  long  be  deferred; 
for  the  minds  of  men  are  pressing  towards  it  with 
an  unusual  intentness.  This  great  question  relates 
to  the  authority  of  Holy  Scripture;  and  the  profess- 
edly Christian  world  is  divided  upon  it  into  three 
parties,  comprehending  all  smaller  varieties  of  opin- 
ion. 

The  first  of  these  parties — constituted  of  the 
Romish  Church  and  its  disguised  favorers,  affirms 
the  subordination  of  the  authority  of  Scripture  to 
that  of  the  priest:  this  is  a  doctrine  of  slavery  and 
of  ignorance,  which  the  mere  progress  of  knowl- 
edge and  of  civil  liberty  must  overthrow,  if  it  be 
not  first  exploded  by  other  means.  The  second 
party  comprises  the  sceptical  sects  of  the  Protes- 
tant world,  which  agree  in  affirming  the  subordina- 
tion of  Scripture  to  the  dogmas  of  natural  theo- 
logy; in  other  words,  to  every  man's  notion  of  what 
religion  ought  to  be.  These  sects,  having  no  bar- 
rier between  themselves  and  pure  deism,  are  con- 
tinually dwindling  by  desertions  to  infidelity;  nor 
will  be  able  to  hold  their  slippery  footing  on  the 
edge  of  Christianity  a  day  after  a  general  revival  of 
serious  piety  has  taken  place. 

The  third  party,  comprehending  the  great  major- 
ity of  the  Protestant  body,  bows  reverently,  and  im- 
plicitly, and  with  intelligent  conviction,  to  the  abso- 
lute authority  of  the  word  of  God,  and  knows  of 
nothing  in  theology  that  is  not  affirmed  or  fairly 
implied  therein.  The  diffisrences  existing  within 
this  party,  how  much  soever  they  may  be  exaggerat- 

*9 


98  ENTHUSIASM    OF    HERESY. 

ed  by  bigots,  will  vanish  as  the  mists  of  the  morn- 
ing under  the  brightness  of  the  sun,  whenever  a 
refreshment  of  pious  feeling  descends  upon  the 
Church.  They  consist,  in  part,  of  mere  misunder- 
standings of  abstract  phrases — unknown  to  the  lan- 
guage of  Scripture;  in  part  they  hinge  upon  politi- 
cal constitutions,  of  which  so  much  as  is  substan- 
tially evil  is  by  no  means  of  desperate  inveteracy; 
in  part  these  differences  are  nothing  better  than  the 
lumber  of  antiquity — the  worthless  relics  of  forgot- 
ten janglings,  handed  down  from  father  to  son,  but 
now,  by  so  many  transmissions,  worn  away  to  an 
extreme  slenderness,  and  quite  ready  to  crumble 
into  the  dust  of  everlasting  forgetfulness.  Men 
shall  not  always  so  remain  children  in  understand- 
ing as  that  the  lesser  shall  be  preferred  to  the  greater; 
nor  shall  it  always  be  that  the  substantial  sin  of 
schism  shall  be  incurred  and  vindicated  on  the 
ground  of  obscure  historical  questions,  fit  only  to 
amuse  the  idle  hours  of  the  antiquary.  This  trifling 
with  things  sacred  must  come  to  its  end,  and  the 
great  law  of  love  must  triumph,  and  the  Christian 
Church  henceforward  have  "one  Lord,  one  faith, 
one  baptism." 


SECTION    V. 

THE  ENTHUSIASM  OF  PROPHETICAL  INTERPRETATION. 

Disappointment  is  perhaps  the  most  frequent  of 
all  the  occasional  causes  of  insanity;  but  the  sud- 
den kindling  of  hope  sometimes  produces  the  same 
lamentable  effect.  Yet  before  this  emotion  can 
exert  so  fatal  an  influence,  the  expected  good  must 
appear  in  the  light  of  the  strongest  probability;  and 
even  if  the  vagueness  of  a  distant  futurity  inter- 
venes, the  swellings  of  desire  and  joy  are  quelled, 
and  reason  maintains  its  seat.  On  this  principle, 
perhaps  it  is,  that  the  vast  and  highly  exciting  hope 
of  immortal  life  very  rarely,  even  in  susceptible 
minds,  generates  that  kind  of  emotion  which  brings 
with  it  the  hazard  of  mental  derangement.  Relig- 
ious madness,  when  it  occurs,  is  most  often  the  mad- 
ness of  despondency.  But  if  the  glories  of  heaven 
might,  by  any  means,  and  in  contravention  of  the 
established  order  of  things,  be  brought  out  from  the 
dimness  and  concealment  of  the  unseen  world,  and 
be  placed  ostensibly  on  this  side  of  the  darkness 
and  coldness  of  death,  and  be  linked  with  objects 
familiarly  known,  they  might  then  press  so  forcibly 


100  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

upon  the  passion  of  hope,  and  so  inflame  excitable 
imaginations,  that  real  insanity,  or  an  approach  to- 
wards it,  would  probably,  in  some  instances,  be  the 
consequence. 

A  provision  against  mischiefs  of  this  kind  is 
evidently  contained  in  the  extreme  reserve  of  the 
Scriptures  on  all  subjects  connected  with  the  un- 
seen world.  This  reserve  is  so  singular,  and  so  ex- 
traordinary, seeing  that  the  Jewish  poets,  prophets, 
and  preachers  were  Asiatics,  that  it  affords  no  trivial 
proof  of  the  divine  origination  of  the  books: — an 
intelligent  advocate  of  the  Bible  will  choose  to  rest 
an  argument  rather  upon  the  paucity  of  its  discov- 
eries, than  upon  their  plenitude. 

But  a  confident  and  dogmatical  interpretation 
of  those  prophecies  that  are  supposed  to  be  on  the 
eve  of  fulfilment,  has  manifestly  a  tendency  thus 
to  bring  forth  the  wonders  of  the  unseen  world,  and 
to  connect  them  in  sensible  contact  with  the  fa- 
miliar objects  and  events  of  the  present  state.  And 
such  interpretations  may  be  held  with  so  full  and 
overwhelming  a  persuasion  of  their  truth,  that  heav- 
en and  its  splendors  may  seem  to  stand  at  the  door 
of  our  very  homes: — to-morrow,  perhaps,  the  hasten- 
ing crisis  of  the  nations  shall  lift  the  veil  which  so 
long  has  hidden  the  brightness  of  the  eternal  throne 
from  mortal  eyes:  each  turn  of  public  affairs;  a  war 
— a  truce — a  conspiracy — a  royal  marriage — may  . 
be  the  immediate  precursor  of  that  new  era,  wherein 
it  shall  no  longer  be  true,  as  heretofore,  that  "the 
things  eternal  are  unseen." 


PKOPHETICAL  INTERPRETATION.        101 

When  an  opinion — or  we  should  rather  say  a  per- 
suasion, of  this  imposing  kind  is  entertained  by  a 
mind  of  more  mobility  than  strength,  and  when  it 
has  acquired  form,  and  consistency,  and  definite- 
ness,  by  being  long  and  incessantly  the  object  of 
contemplation,  it  may  easily  gain  exclusive  posses- 
sion of  the  mind;  and  a  state  of  exclusive  occupa- 
tion of  the  thoughts  by  a  single  subject,  if  it  be  not 
real  madne  s,  differs  little  from  it;  for  a  man  can 
hardly  be  called  sane  who  is  mastered  by  one  set  of 
ideas,  and  has  lost  the  will  or  the  power  to  break  up 
the  continuity  of  his  musings. 

Whether  or  not  this  explanation  be  just,  it  is  mat- 
ter of  fact  that  no  species  of  enthusiasm  has  carried 
its  victims  nearer  to  the  brink  of  insanity  than  that 
which  originates  in  the  interpretation  of  unfulfilled 
prophecy.  It  need  not  be  asked  whether  there 
is  not  some  capital  error  on  the  side  of  many  who 
have  given  themselves  to  this  study;  for  the  indica- 
tions of  egregious  delusion  have  been  of  a  kind  not 
to  be  mistaken.  There  must  be  present  some  lurk- 
ing mischief  when  the  study  of  any  part  of  the  Holy 
Scripture  issues  in  extravagance  of  conduct,  and 
in  an  offensive  turgidness  of  language,  and  produces 
— not  quietness  and  peace,  but  a  wild  and  quaking 
looking-for  of  impending  wonders.  There  must  be 
a  fault  of  principle  when  the  demeanor  of  Chris- 
tians is  such  that  those  who  occupy  the  place  of 
the  unlearned  are  excused  when  they  say,  "ye  are 
mad." 


102  THE    ENTHUSIASM  OP 

That  some  peculiar  danger  haunts  this  region  of 
biblical  inquiry  is  established  by  a  double  proof; 
for  not  only  have  men  of  exorbitant  imaginations 
and  feeble  judgment  rushed  towards  it  instinctively, 
and  with  the  eagerness  of  infatuation;  but  some- 
times the  soundest  understandings  have  lost,  in  these 
inquiries,  their  wonted  discretion.  At  several  pe- 
riods of  church  history,  and  again  in  our  own  times, 
multitudes  have  drunk  to  intoxication  of  the  phial 
of  prophetic  interpretation;  and  amid  imagined  peals 
of  the  mystic  thunder,  have  become  deaf  to  the 
voice  both  of  common  sense  and  of  duty.  The 
piety  of  such  persons — if  piety  it  may  be  called, 
has  made  them  hunger  and  thirst,  not  for  "the  bread 
and  water  of  life,"  but  for  the  news  of  the  political 
world.  In  such  instances  it  may  be  confidently 
affirmed,  previously  to  a  hearing  of  the  argument, 
that,  even  if  the  interpretation  were  true,  it  has 
been  entangled  with  some  knotted  thread  of  egre- 
gious error. 

The  proper  remedy  for  evils  of  this  kind  is  not  to 
be  found  in  the  timid  or  overbearing  prohibitions 
of  those  who  endeavor  to  prevent  the  mischief  by 
interdicting  inquiry;  and  who  would  make  it  a  sin 
or  a  folly  for  a  Christian  to  ask  the  meaning  of  cer- 
tain portions  of  Scripture.  Cautions  and  restric- 
tions of  this  nature  are  incompatible  with  the  prin- 
ciples of  Protestantism,  as  well  as  unnecessary,  arro- 
gant, and  unavailing.  If  indeed  man  possessed  any 
means  of  intrusion  upon  the  mysteries  of  the  upper 
world,  or  upon  the  secrets  of  futurity,  there  might 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  103 

be  room  to  reprehend  the  audacity  of  those  who 
should  attempt  to  know  by  force  or  by  importunity 
of  research  what  has  not  been  revealed.     But  when 
the  unseen  and  the  future  are,  by  the  spontaneous 
grace  of  heaven,  in  part  set  open — when  a  message, 
which  might  have  been  withheld,  has  been  sent  to 
earth,  encircled  with  a  benediction  like  this — "Bles- 
sed are  they  that  hear,  and  keep  these  words:"  then 
it  may  safely  most  be  concluded  that  whatever  is  not 
marked  with  the  seal  of  prohibition,  is  open  to  scru- 
tiny.    In  truth  there  is  something  incongruous  in 
the  notion  of  a  revelation  enveloped  in  restrictions. 
But  be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  whoever 
would  shut  up  the  Scriptures,  in  whole  or  in  part, 
from  his  fellow  disciples,  or  who  affirms  it  to  be 
unsafe  or  unwise  to  study  such  and  such  passages, 
is  bound  to  show  reasons  of  the  most  convincing 
kind  for  the  exclusion.     "What  God  has  joined,  let 
not  man  put  asunder;"  but  He  has  connected   his 
blessing,  comprehensively,    with   the  study    of  his 
word.     It  may  be  left  to  the  Romish  Church  to  em- 
ploy that   faulty  argument  of  captious  arrogance, 
which  prohibits  the  use  of  whatever  may  be  abused. 
Unless  then  it  can  be  shown  that  a  divine  interdic- 
tion encloses  the  prophetic  portions  of  Scripture, 
it  must    be   deemed    an  ill-judged   and  irreligious, 
though   perhaps  well-intended  usurpation,   in    any 
one  who  assumes  to  plant  his   little  rod  of  obstruc- 
tion across  the  highway  of  Revelation. 

Moreover,  prohibitions  of  this  kind  are  futile,  be- 
cause impossible  to  be  observed.      Every  one  ad- 


104  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

mits  that  the  study  of  those  prophecies  which  have 
already  received  their  accomplishment  is  a  matter 
of  high  importance  and  positive  duty; — "we  have  a 
sure  word  of  prophecy  to  which  we  do  well  to  take 
heed."  But  how  soon,  in  attempting  to  discharge 
this  duty,  are  we  entangled  in  a  snare — if  indeed 
the  study  of  unfulfilled  prophecy  be  in  itself  im- 
proper! For  many  of  the  prophecies,  and  those 
especially  which  are  the  most  definite,  and  the 
most  intelligible,  stretch  themselves  across  the  wide 
gulf  of  time,  and  rest  upon  points  intervening  be- 
tween the  days  of  the  Seer,  and  the  hour  when  the 
mystery  of  Providence  shall  be  finished:  and  these 
comprehensive  predictions,  instead  of  tracking  their 
way  by  equal  and  measured  intervals  through  the 
course  of  ages,  traverse  vast  spaces  unmarked;  and 
with  a  sudden  bound,  parting  from  an  age  now  long 
gone  by,  attain  at  once  the  last  period  of  the  human 
economy.  These  abrupt  transitions  create  obscu- 
rities which  must  either  shut  up  the  whole  prophecy 
from  inquiry,  or  necessitate  a  scrutiny  of  the  whole; 
for  at  a  first  perusal,  and  without  the  guidance  of 
learned  investigation,  who  shall  venture  to  place  his 
finger  on  the  syllable  which  forms  the  boundary 
between  the  past  and  the  future — which  constitutes 
the  limit  between  duty  and  presumption?  A  pre- 
diction which  may  seem  to  belong  to  futurity,  will, 
perhaps,  on  better  information  be  found  to  regard 
the  past — or  the  reverse.  These  extensive  prophe- 
cies, and  such  are  those  of  Daniel  and  of  John, 
must  then  either  be  shunned  altogether  from  the 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  105 

fear  of  trespassing  on  forbidden  ground,  or  they 
must  be  studied  entire,  in  dependence  upon  other 
means  than  voluntary  ignorance  for  avoiding  pre- 
sumption and  enthusiasm.  Whoever  vi'ould  dis- 
charge for  others  the  difficult  office  of  marking, 
throughout  the  Scriptures,  the  boundaries  of  lawful 
investigation,  must,  himself  first  have  committed 
the  supposed  trespass  upon  the  regions  of  unfulfilled 
prophecy.  We  conclude,  therefore,  that  a  separa- 
tion which  no  one  can  effect,  is  not  really  needed. 

The  ancient  Church  received  no  cautions  against 
a  too  eager  scrutiny  of  the  great  prophecy  left  to 
excite  its  hope:  on  the  contrary,  the  pious  were 
"divinely  moved"  to  search  what  might  be  the 
purport  and  season  of  the  revelation  made  by  "the 
Spirit  of  Christ"  to  the  prophets;  and  though  these 
predictions  did  in  fact  give  occasion  to  the  delusions 
of  "many  deceivers,"  and  though  they  were  greatly 
misunderstood,  even  by  the  most  pious  and  the  best 
informed  of  the  Jewish  people;  yet  did  not  the  fore- 
knowledge of  these  mischiefs  and  errors  call  for  any 
such  restrictions  upon  the  spirit  of  inquiry  as  those 
wherewith  some  persons  are  now  fain  to  hedge  about 
the  Scriptures? 

To  the  Christian  Church  the  second  coming  of 
Christ  stands  where  his  first  coming  stood  to  the 
Jewish — in  the  very  centre  of  the  field  of  prophetic 
light;  and  a  participation  in  the  glories  "then  to  be 
revealed"  is  even  limited  to  those  who  in  every  age 
are  devoutly  "looking  for  him."  It  is  true  that  this 
doctrine  of  the  second  coming  of  Christ  has,  like 
10 


106  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

that  of  his  first,  wrought  strongly  upon  enthusiastic 
minds,  and  been  the  occasion  of  some  pernicious 
delusions;  yet,  for  the  correction  of  these  incidental 
evils,  we  must  look  to  other  means  than  to  any  ex- 
isting cautions  given  to  the  Church  in  the  Scriptures 
against  a  too  earnest  longing  for  the  promised  advent 
of  her  King.  To  snatch  this  great  promise  from 
Scripture  in  hasty  fear,  and  then  to  close  the  book 
lest  we  should  see  more  than  it  is  intended  we 
should  know,  is  not  our  part.  On  the  contrary,  it  is 
chiefly  from  a  diligent  and  comprehensive  study  of 
the  terms  of  the  great  unfulfilled  prophecy  of  Scrip- 
ture, that  a  preservative  against  delusion  is  to  be 
gathered.  To  check  assiduous  researches  by  cau- 
tions which  the  humble  may  respect,  but  which  the 
presumptuous  will  certainly  contemn,  is  to  abandon 
the  leading  truth  of  Revelation  to  the  uncorrected 
wantonness  of  fanaticism. 

It  is  often  not  so  much  the  intrinsic  qualities  of 
an  opinion,  as  the  unwarrantable  confidence  with 
which  it  is  held,  that  generates  enthusiasm.  Per- 
suade the  dogmatist  to  be  modest — as  every  Chris- 
tian '"undoubtedly  ought  who  thinks  himself  com- 
pelled to  dissent  from  the  common  belief  of  the 
Church; — persuade  him  to  give  respectful  attention 
to  the  argument  of  an  opponent; — in  a  word,  to 
surrender  the  topmost  point  of  his  assurance,  and 
presently  the  high  temperature  of  his  feelings  will 
come  down  near  to  the  level  of  sobriety.  To  doubt 
after  hearing  of  sufficient  evidence,  and  to  dog- 
matise where  proof  is  confessedly  imperfect,  are 
alike    the   indications    of    infirmity  of  judgment. 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  107 

if  not  of  perversity  of  temper;  and  these  great 
faults,  whicii  never  predominate  in  the  character 
apart  from  the  indulgence  of  unholy  passions,  seem 
often  to  be  judicially  visited  with  a  hopeless  im- 
becility of  the  reasoning  faculties.  Thus,  while  the 
sceptic  becomes,  in  course  of  time,  incapable  of 
retaining  his  hold  even  of  the  most  certain  truths, 
the  dogmatist,  on  the  other  hand,  loses  all  power  of 
suspending  for  a  moment  his  decisions;  and,  as  a 
feather  and  a  ball  of  lead  descend  with  the  same  ve- 
locity when  dropped  in  a  vacuum,  so  do  all  propo- 
sitions— whether  loaded  with  a  weight  of  evidence 
or  not,  instantly  reach  in  his  understanding  the  firm 
ground  of  absolute  assurance. 

Instead,  therefore,  of  enhancing  the  arrogance  of 
the  half-insane  interpreter  of  prophecy  by  inviting 
him  to  display  the  blazing  front  of  his  argument,  it 
may  be  better — if  it  can  be  done — to  demonstrate 
that  even  though  it  should  appear  that  his  opinion 
carries  a  large  balance  of  probability,  there  is  still 
a  special  and  very  peculiar  impropriety  in  the  tone 
of  dogmatism  which,  on  this  particular  subject,  he 
assumes;  so  that  the  error  of  the  general  Church 
— if  it  be  an  error — is  actually  less  than  the  fault  of 
him  who,  in  this  temper,  may  boast  that  he  has  truth 
on  his  side.  Such  a  case  of  special  impropriety 
may,  in  this  instance,  very  clearly  be  made  out. 

The  language  of  prophecy  is  either  common  or 
mystical.  Predictions  delivered  in  the  style  of  com- 
mon discourse,  and  free  from  symbols,  as  they  are 
little  liable  to  diversities  of  explication,  do  not  often 


108  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

tempt  the  ingenuity  of  visionaries:  tliey  may,  there- 
fore, be  excluded  from  consideration  in  the  present 
instance.  Mystic  prophecy — or  future  history  writ- 
ten in  symbols,  under  guidance  of  the  divine  fore- 
knowledge, in  being  committed  to  the  custody  and 
perusal  of  mankind,  must  be  presumed  to  conform 
itself  to  the  laws  of  that  particular  species  of  com- 
position to  which  it  bears  analogy.  For  if  the  Di- 
vine Being  condescends  at  all  to  hold  intercourse 
with  men,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  He  will  do  so, 
not  only  in  a  language  known  to  them,  but  in  a 
manner  perfectly  accordant  to  the  rules  and  proprie- 
ties of  the  niedium  He  deigns  to  employ.  Now 
the  prophecies  in  question  not  merely  belong  to  the 
general  class  of  symbolic  writing,  but  there  is  to 
be  discerned  in  them,  very  plainly,  the  specific  style 
of  the  enigma,  which,  in  early  ages,  was  a  usual 
mode  of  embodying  the  most  important  and  serious 
truths.  In  the  enigma,  the  principal  subject  is,  by 
some  ingenuity  of  definition,  and  by  some  ambigu- 
ity of  description,  at  once  held  forth  and  concealed. 
The  law  by  which  it  is  constructed  demands,  that 
while  there  is  given,  under  a  guise,  some  special 
mark  which  shall  prevent  the  possibility  of  doubt 
when  once  the  substance  signified  is  seen,  that  sub- 
stance shall  be  so  artfully  depicted  that  the  descrip- 
tion, though  it  be  a  true  representation,  may  admit 
of  more  than  one  explicatipn.  There  can  be  no  genu- 
ine and  fair  enigma  in  which  these  conditions  are 
not  complied  with.  If  no  special  mark  be  given, 
the  true  solution  must  want  the  means  of  vindicat- 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  109 

ing  its  exclusive  propriety,  when  the  substance 
signified  is  declared; — a  vague  riddle  is  none.  Or 
if  the  special  mark  be  not  disguised — if  no  varnish- 
ing opacity  be  spread  over  it,  the  substance  is  mani- 
fested at  once,  and  the  enigma  nullified.  Again,  if 
the  general  description  is  not  so  contrived  as  to  ad- 
mit several  plausible  hypotheses,  then  also  the  whole 
intention  of  the  device  is  destroyed,  and  the  special 
mark  rendered  useless;  for  what  need  can  there  be 
of  an  infallible  indicator  which  is  to  come  in  as 
arbiter  among  a  number  of  competing  solutions,  if, 
in  fact,  no  room  be  left  for  diversity  of  interpretation? 

Whenever,  therefore,  among  mystic  enunciations 
we  can  detect  the  existence  of  some  couched  and 
specific  note  of  identification,  we  may  most  cer- 
tainly conclude  that  it  is  placed  there  to  serve  a 
future  purpose  of  discrimination  among  several  ad- 
missible modes  of  solution;  or  in  other  words,  that  the 
enigma  is  designedly  so  framed  as  to  tempt  and  to 
allow  a  diversity  of  hypothetical  explanations.  An 
enigmatical  or  symbolical  enunciation  conformed  to 
these  essential  rules,  serves  the  threefold  purpose 
of  presenting  a  blind  to  the  incurious — a  trap  to 
the  dogmatical,  and  an  exercise  of  modesty,  of  pa- 
tience, and  of  sagacity,  to  the  wise.  And  this  seems 
to  be  the  result  intended,  and  actually  accomplished 
by  the  symbolical  prophecies  of  Scripture. 

When  the  subject  of  enigma  already  stands  within 

the  range  of  our  knowledge,  and  requires  only  to  be 

singled  out,  the  process  of  solution  is  simple.     The 

several  suppositions  that  seem  to  comport  with  the 

*10 


110  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

ambiguous  description  are  to  be  brought  together; 
and  then  the  special  mark  must  be  applied  to  each 
in  turn,  until  such  a  precise  and  convincing  corres- 
pondence is  discovered  as  at  once  strips  the  false 
solutions  of  all  their  pretensions:  if  the  enigma  be 
fairly  constructed,  this  method  of  induction  will 
never  fail  of  success.  Thus,  with  the  page  of  history 
before  us,  those  prophecies  of  Daniel,  for  example, 
which  relate  to  the  invasion  of  Greece  by  the  Per- 
sians— to  the  subsequent  overthrow  of  the  Persian 
monarchy  by  the  Macedonians — to  the  division  of 
the  conquests  of  Alexander — to  the  spread  of  the 
Roman  arms,  and  to  the  sub-division  of  the  Roman 
Empire,  are  interpreted  without  hazard  of  error,  and 
with  a  completeness  and  a  speciality  of  coincidence, 
that  carries  a  conviction  of  the  divine  dictation  of 
those  prophecies  to  every  honest  mind. 

A  course  somewhat  less  gratifying  to  the  eager- 
ness of  enthusiastic  spirits  must  be  pursued,  if  the 
subject  of  the  sacred  enigma  does  not  actually  stand 
within  our  view;  if  it  rests  in  a  foreign  region — as, 
for  example,  in  the  region  of  futurity.  It  will  by 
no  means  follow  that  a  symbolical  prediction, 
which  remains  unfulfilled,  ought  not  to  be  made 
the  subject  of  investigation;  for  as  the  descrip- 
tion doubtless  contains,  by  condensation,  the  sub- 
stance of  the  unknown  reality,  and  perhaps  also 
much  of  its  character,  it  may,  even  when  min- 
gled with  erroneous  interpretations,  serve  impor- 
tant purposes  in  the  excitement  of  pious  hope. 
The  delivery  of  these  enigmas  into  the  hands  of  the 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  Ill 

Church,  and  their  intricate  intermixture  with  fuh- 
filled  prophecies,  and  their  being  every  where  em- 
bossed with  attractive  lessons  of  piety  and  virtue — ■ 
not  to  mention  the  explicit  invitation  to  read  and 
study  them,  may  confidently  be  deemed  to  convey 
a  full  license  of  examination.  Yet  in  these  instan- 
ces the  well-known  laws  of  the  peculiar  style  in 
which  the  predictions  are  enveloped,  suggest  restric- 
tions and  cautions  which  no  humble  and  pious  ex- 
positor can  overlook.  The  fault  of  the  dogmatist 
in  prophecy  is  then  manifest.  Is  a  mystic  predic- 
tion averred  to  be  unfulfilled.''  Then  we  know,  that 
by  the  essential  law  of  its  composition,  it  is  design- 
edly— we  might  say,  artfully  constructed,  so  as  to 
admit  of  several,  and  perhaps  of  many  plausible 
interpretations,  having  nearly  equal  claims  of  prob- 
ability: and  we  know  moreover,  that  the  special 
mark  couched  amid  the  symbols,  and  which,  in  the 
issue,  is  to  arbitrate  among  the  various  solutions,  is 
drawn  from  some  minute  peculiarity  in  the  surface 
and  complexion  of  the  future  substance,  and  there- 
fore cannot  be  available  for  the  purpose  of  discrim- 
ination, until  that  substance,  in  the  shape  and  color 
of  reality,  starts  forth  into  day. 

The  expositor,  therefore,  who  presumptuously 
espouses  any  one  of  the  several  interpretations  of 
which  an  enigmatical  prophecy  is  susceptible,  and 
who  fondly  claims  for  it  a  positive  and  exclusive 
preference,  sins  most  flagrantly,  and  most  outrage- 
ously, against  the  unalterable  laws  of  the  language 
of  which  he  professes  himself  a  master.     If  dog- 


112  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

matism  on  matters  not  fully  revealed  be  in  all  cases 
blameworthy,  it  is  eminently  and  especially  con- 
demnable  in  the  expositor  of  enigmatic  prophecy; 
and  that,  not  merely  because  the  events  so  predicted 
rest  under  the  awful  veil  of  futurity,  and  exist  only 
in  the  prescience  of  the  Deity;  but  because  the 
chosen  style  of  the  communication  lays  a  distinct 
claim  to  modesty,  and  demands  suspension  of  judg- 
ment. The  use  of  symbols  speaks  a  design  of  con- 
cealment;— and  do  we  suppose  that  what  God  has 
hidden,  the  sagacity  of  man  shall  discover?  In 
issuing  the  prediction,  He  does  indeed  invite  the 
humble  inquiries  of  the  Church;  and  in  using  sym- 
bols which  have  a  conventional  meaning  He  gives  a 
clue  to  learned  research;  and  yet,  by  the  combina- 
tion of  these  symbols  into  the  enigmatic  form,  an 
articulate  warning  is  issued  against  all  dogmatical 
confidence  of  interpretation. 

The  adoption  of  an  exclusive  theory  of  expo- 
sition will  not  fail  to  be  followed  by  an  attempt  to 
attach  the  special  marks  of  prophecy  to  every  pass- 
ing event;  and  it  is  this  attempt  which  sets  enthu- 
siasm in  a  flame;  for  it  belongs,  in  common,  to 
all  the  religious  vices  that,  though  mild  and  harm- 
less while  roaming  at  large  among  remote  or  invis- 
ible objects,  they  assume  a  noxious  activity  the 
moment  that  they  fix  their  grasp  upon  things  near 
and  tangible.  There  is  scarcely  any  degree  of  so- 
briety of  temper  which  can  secure  the  mind  against 
fanatical  restlessness  when  once  the  habit  has  been 
formed  of  collating,  daily,  the  newspaper  and  the 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  113 

prophets:  and  the  man  who,  with  a  feeble  judgment 
and  an  excitable  imagination,  is  constantly  catching 
at  political  intelligence — apocalypse  in  hand — walks 
on  the  verge  of  insanity — or  worse,  of  infidelity. 
In  this  feverish  state  of  the  feelings,  mundane  in- 
terests, under  the  guise  of  faith  and  hope,  occupy 
the  soul  to  the  exclusion  of  "things  unseen  and  eter- 
nal:" meanwhile  the  heart-affecting  matters  of  piety 
and  virtue  become  vapid  to  the  taste,  and  gradually 
fall  into  forgetfulness. 

The  fault  of  the  dogmatical  expositor  of  proph- 
ecy is  especially  manifested  when  he  assumes  to 
determine  the  chronology  of  unfulfilled  predictions. 
In  the  instance  of  prophetic  dates  the  different  lines 
of  conduct  suggested  by  the  different  styles  of  the 
communication  are  readily  perceived,  and  cheer- 
fully observed  by  calm  and  modest  interpreters. 
We  may  take,  for  illustration,  the  predicted  duration 
of  the  captivity  of  Judah,  which  was  made  known  by 
Jeremiah  (xxix.  10)  in  the  intelligible  terms  of  com- 
mon and  popular  computation;  nor  could  the  sup- 
position of  a  symbolic  sense  of  the  words  be  admit- 
ted by  any  sober  expositor.  On  the  authority 
this  unequivocal  prediction  Daniel,  as  the  time 
spoken  of  drew  near,  made  confession  and  suppli- 
cation in  the  full  assurance  of  warranted  faith.  In 
this  confidence  there  was  no  presumption,  for  his 
persuasion  rested — not  on  the  assumed  validity  of 
this  or  of  that  ingenious  interpretation  of  symbols, 
but  upon  an  explicit  declaration  which  needed  only 
to  be  read,  not  expounded. 


114  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

,But  when  the  beloved  seer  received  from  his  ce- 
lestial informant  the  date  o^  seventy  weeks,  which 
should  fix  the  period  of  the  Messiah's  advent  and 
propitiatory  sufferings,  the  employment  of  symbolic 
terms,  of  itself  announced  the  double  intention  of, 
at  once,  revealing  the  time,  and  of  concealing  it. 
For  as  the  terms  bore  a  known  import,  they  could 
not  be  thought  to  be  absolutely  shut  up  from  re- 
search; yet,  as  by  the  mode  of  their  combination, 
they  became  susceptible  of  a  considerable  diversity 
of  interpretation,  the  wise  and  good  might,  after  all 
their  diligence,  differ  in  opinion  as  to  the  precise 
moment  of  accomplishment.  Thus  was  devout 
inquiry  at  once  invited  and  restrained: — invited, 
because  the  language  of  the  prediction  was  not 
unknown; — and  restrained,  because  it  asked  for 
interpretation,  and  admitted  a  diversity  of  opinion. 
Those  pious  persons,  therefore,  who,  at  the  time 
of  the  Messiah's  birth,  were  "looking  for  the  conso- 
lation of  Israel,"  could  not,  unless  favored  with  per- 
sonal revelations,  affirm — "this  is  the  very  year  of 
the  expected  deliverance;" — for  the  symbolic  chro- 
nology might,  with  an  appearance  of  reason,  bear 
a  somewhat  different  sense.  Yet  might  such  per- 
sons, though  not  perfectly  agreed  in  opinion,  law- 
fully and  safely  join  in  an  exulting  hope,  that  the 
time  spoken  of  was  not  far  distant,  when  the  Son  of 
David  should  appear. 

The  same  rule  is  applicable  to  the  position  of  the 
church  at  the  present  moment.  No  one,  it  may  be 
affirmed,  can  have  given  due  attention  to  the  ques- 


OP  HETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  115 

tions  which  have  been  of  late  so  much  agitated, 
without  feeling  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  a 
high  degree  of  probability  supports  the  belief  of 
an  approaching  extraordinary  developement  of  the 
mystery  of  providence  towards  Christendom,  and 
perhaps,  towards  the  whole  family  of  man.  That 
this  probability  is  strong,  might  be  argued  from  the 
fact  that  it  has  wrought  a  general  concurrence  of 
belief  among  those  whose  modes  of  thinking  on 
most  subjects  are  extremely  dissimilar.  Christians, 
amid  many  contrarieties  of  opinion,  are,  with  a  tacit 
or  an  explicit  expectation,  looking  for  movement 
and  progression,  to  be  effected,  either  by  a  quick- 
ened energy  of  existing  means,  or  by  the  sudden 
operation  of  new  causes.  This  probable  opinion,  if 
held  in  the  spirit  of  Christian  modesty,  aflords,  un- 
der the  sanction  of  the  coolest  reason,  a  new  and 
strong  excitement  to  religious  hope.  He  who  en- 
tertains it  may  exultingly,  yet  calmly  exclaim,  "The 
night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at  hand;"  and  the  kin- 
dling expectation  will  rouse  him  to  greater  dili- 
gence in  every  good  work,  to  greater  watchfulness 
against  every  defilement  of  heart,  and  frivolity  of 
spirit,  and  inconsistency  of  conduct: — he  will  strive^ 
with  holy  wakefulness,  to  live  as  the  disciple  should 
who  is  "waiting  for  his  Lord."  Thus  far  he  can 
justify  the  new  vivacity  of  his  hopes  upon  the 
ground  of  the  permanent  motives  of  religion;  for 
he  feels  nothing  more  than  a  Christian  may  well 
always  feel;  and  the  opinion  he  entertains  relative 
to  the  near  accomplishment  of  extraordinary  proph- 


116 


THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 


ecy,  serves  only  as  an  incitement  to  a  state  of  mind 
in  which  he  would  fain  be  found,  if  called  suddenly 
from  the  present  scene.  While  giving  free  admis- 
sion to  sentiments  of  this  sort,  he  knows,  that 
though  he  should  be  mistaken  in  his  theoretical 
premises,  he  shall  certainly  be  right  in  his  practical 
inference. 

But  if  the  discreet  Christian  is  tempted  or  solic- 
ited to  admit  an  incongruous  jumble  of  political 
speculations  and  Christian  hopes;  if  he  is  called 
upon  to  detach  in  any  degree  his  attention  from 
immediate  and  unquestionable  duties,  and  to  fix 
his  meditations  on  objects  that  have  no  connexion 
with  his  personal  responsibility;  then  he  will  check 
such  an  intrusion  of  turbulence  and  distraction,  the 
tendency  of  which  he  feels  to  be  pernicious,  by 
recollecting  that  his  opinion,  how  probable  soever 
it  may  seem,  is,  at  the  best,  nothing  more  than  one 
hypothesis  among  the  many,  which  offer  themselves 
in  explantion  of  an  enigmatical  prediction.  To-day 
this  hypothesis  pleases  him  by  its  plausibility;  to- 
morrow he  may  reject  it  on  better  information. 

Nothing  then  can  be  much  more  precise  than  the 
line  which  forms  the  boundary  between  a  legitimate 
and  an  enthusiastic  feeling  on  the  subject  of  proph- 
ecy. Is  a  prediction  couched  in  symbol.^  Is  it 
entangled  among  perplexing  anachronisms?  Is  it 
studded  with  points  of  special  reference.''  We  then 
recognize  the  hand  of  heaven  in  the  art  of  its  con- 
struction; and  we  know  that  it  is  so  moulded  as  to 
admit  and  invite  the  manifold  diversities    of   inge- 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  117 

nious  explication;  and  that  therefore,  even  the  true 
explication  must,  until  the  day  of  solution,  stand 
undistinguished  in  a  crowd  of  plausible  errors.  But 
for  a  man  to  proclaim  himself  the  champion  of  a 
particular  hypothesis,  and  to  employ  it  as  he  might 
an  explicit  prediction,  is  to  affront  the  Spirit  of 
prophecy  by  contemning  the  chosen  style  of  His 
announcements.  And  what  shall  be  said  of  the  au- 
dacity of  him,  who  with  no  other  commission  in  his 
hand  than  such  as  any  man  may  please  to  frame  for 
himself,  usurps  the  awful  style  of  the  seer,  pronoun- 
ces the  doom  of  nations,  hurls  thunders  at  thrones, 
and,  worse  than  this — puts  the  credit  of  Christianity 
at  pawn  in  the  hand  of  infidelity,  to  be  lost  beyond 
recovery,  if  not  redeemed  on  a  day  specified  by  the 
fanatic  for  the  verification  of  his  word! 

The  agitation  which  has  recently  taken  place  on 
the  subject  of  prophecy,  may,  perhaps,  ere  long, 
subside,  and  the  church  may  again  acquiesce  in  its 
old  sobrieties  of  opinion.  And  yet  a  different  and  a 
better  result  of  the  existing  controversy  seems  not 
altogether  improbable;  for  when  enthusiasm  has  rav- 
ed itself  into  exhaustion,  and  has  received  from  time 
the  refutation  of  its  precocious  hopes;  and  when, 
on  the  other  side,  prosing  mediocrity  has  uttered  all 
its  saws,  and  fallen  back  into  its  own  slumber,  of 
contented  ignorance,  then  the  spirit  of  research  and 
of  legitimate  curiosity,  which  no  doubt  has  been 
diff'used  among  not  a  few  intelligent  students  of 
Scripture,  may  bring  on  a  calm,  a  learned,  and  a 
11 


118  THE    ENTHUSIASM    01? 

productive  discussion  of  the  many  great  questions 
that  belong  to  the  undeveloped  destiny  of  man.  And 
it  may  be  believed  that  the  issue  of  such  discussions 
will  take  its  place  among  the  means  that  shall  con- 
cur to  usher  in  a  brighter  age  of  Christianity.       ^ 

Not  indeed,  as  if  any  fundamental  principle  of 
religion  remained  to  be  discovered;  for  the  spiritual 
church  has,  in  every  age,  possessed  the  substance 
of  truth,  under  the  promised  teaching  of  the  Spirit 
of  truth.  But,  obviously,  there  are  many  subjects, 
more  or  less  clearly  revealed  in  the  Scriptures,  upon 
which  egregious  errors  may  be  entertained,  consist- 
ently with  genuine,  and  even  exalted  piety: — they 
do  indeed  belong  to  the  entire  faith  of  a  Christian; 
but  they  form  no  part  of  its  basis;  they  may  be  de- 
tached or  disfigured  without  great  peril  to  the  sta- 
bility of  the  structure.  Almost  all  opinions  relat- 
ing to  the  unseen  world,  and  to  the  future  provi- 
dence of  God  on  earth,  are  of  this  extrinsic  or  sub- 
ordinate character;  and,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  pious 
and  cautious  men  have,  on  subjects  of  this  kind, 
held  notions  so  incompatibly  dissimilar,  that  the 
one  or  the  other  must  have  been  utterly  erroneous. 
The  detection  of  error  always  opens  a  vista  of  hope 
to  the  diligence  of  inquiry;  and  with  the  mistakes  of 
our  predecessors  before  us  for  our  warning,  and  with 
a  highly  improved  state  of  biblical  learning  for  our 
aid,  it  may  fairly  be  anticipated  that  a  devout  and 
industrious  reconsideration  of  the  evidence  of  Scrip- 
ture, will  achieve  some  important  improvements  in 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  119 

the  opinions  of  the  church  on  these  difficult  and 
obscure  subjects. 

And  yet,  though  an  expectation  of  this  kind 
may  seem  reasonable,  there  is,  on  the  other  hand, 
some  ground  to  imagine  that  the  accomplishment  of 
the  inscrutable  designs  of  the  Divine  Providence, 
may  require  that  the  pious  should  henceforth,  as 
heretofore,  continue  to  entertain  not  only  imperfect, 
but  very  mistaken  notions,  of  the  unseen  and  the 
future  worlds.  Well-founded  hopes  and  erroneous 
interpretations  have  been  linked  together  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  church  in  all  ages,  even  from  that  hour 
of  fallacious  exultation  when  Eve  exclaimed — "I 
have  gotten  the  man  from  the  Lord"— the  man  who 
should  "break  the  serpent's  head."  Neither  the 
discharge  of  present  duties,  nor  the  exercise  of 
right  affections,  nor  a  substantial  preparation  for 
taking  a  part  in  thfe  glory  that  is  to  be  revealed,  is 
perhaps  at  all  necessarily  connected  with  just 
anticipations  of  the  unknown  futurity.  Thus,  when 
the  infant  wakes  into  the  light  of  this  world,  every 
organ  presently  assumes  its  destined  function:  the 
heaving  bosom  confesses  the  fitness  of  the  material 
it  enhales  to  support  the  new  style  of  existence; 
and  the  senses  admit  the  first  impressions  of  the 
external  world  with  a  sort  of  anticipated  familiarity; 
and  though  utterly  untaught  in  the  scenes  upon 
which  it  has  so  suddenly  entered,  and  inexperienced 
in  the  orders  of  the  place  where  it  must  ere  long 
act  its  part,  yet  is  it  truly  "meet  to  be  a  partaker  of 
the  inheritance"  of  life.     And  thus,  too,  a  real  meet- 


120  THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF 

ness  for  his  birth  into  the  future  life,  may  belong  to 
the  Christian,  though  he  be  utterly  ignorant  of  its 
circumstances  and  conditions.  But  the  functions 
of  that  new  life  have  been  long  in  a  hidden  play  of 
preparation  for  full  activity.  He  has  waited  in  the 
coil  of  mortality  only  for  the  moment  when  he  should 
inspire  the  ether  of  the  upper  world,  and  behold 
the  light  of  eternal  day,  and  hear  the  voices  of  new 
companions,  and  taste  of  the  immortal  fruit,  and 
drink  of  the  river  of  life;  and  then,  after  perhaps  a 
short  season  of  nursing  in  the  arms  of  the  elder 
members  of  the  family  above,  he  will  take  his  place 
in  the  service  and  orders  of  the  heavenly  house,  nor 
ever  have  room  to  regret  the  ignorances  of  his  mor- 
tal state. 

The  study  of  those  parts  of  Scripture  which  relate 
to  futurity,  sliould  therefore  be  undertaken  with 
zeal,  inspired  by  a  reasonable  hope  of  successful 
research;  and  at  the  same  time  with  the  modesty 
and  resignation  which  must  spring  from  a  not  un- 
reasonable supposition — that  all  such  researches 
may  be  fruitless.  So  long  as  this  modesty  is  pre- 
served, there  will  be  no  danger  of  enthusiastic  ex- 
citements, what  ever  may  be  the  opinions  which  we 
are  led  to  entertain. 

It  must  be  evident  to  every  calm  mind,  that  the 
discussion  of  questions  confessedly  so  obscure,  and 
upon  which  the  evidence  of  Scripture  is  limited, 
and  of  uncertain  explication,  is  absolutely  improper 
to  the  pulpit.  The  several  points  of  the  Catholic 
faith  afford  themes  enough  for  public  instruction. 


PROPHETICAL    INTERPRETATION.  121 

But  matters  of  learned  debate  are  extraneous  to 
that  faith; — they  are  no  ingredients  in  the  bread  of 
life,  which  is  the  only  article  committed  to  the  hands 
of  the  teacher  for  distribution  among  the  multitude. 
What  are  the  private  and  hypothetical  opinions  of  a 
public  functionary  to  those  whom  he  is  to  teach  the 
principles  of  the  common  Christianity.  And  if  these 
doubtful  opinions  implicate  inquiries  which  the  un- 
learned can  never  prosecute,  a  species  of  imposition 
is  implied  in  the  attempt  to  urge  them  upon  simple 
hearers.  It  is  truly  a  sorry  triumph  that  he  obtains 
who  wins  by  declamation  and  violence  the  voices  of 
a  crowd  in  favor  of  opinions,  which  men  of  learning 
and  modesty  neither  defend  nor  impugn  but  with 
diffidence. — The  press  is  the  proper  organ  of  ab- 
struse controversy. 


*11 


SECTION  VI. 

ENTHUSIASTIC  PERVERSIONS  OF  THE  DOCTRINE  OF  A 
PARTICULAR  PROVIDENCE. 

No  species  of  enthusiasm,  perhaps,  is  more  enten- 
sively  prevalent,  and  certainly  none  clings  more 
tenaciously  to  the  mind  that  has  once  entertained  it, 
and  none  produces  more  practical  mischief,  than 
that  which  is  founded  on  an  abuse  of  the  doctrine 
of  a  particular  Providence.  It  is  by  the  fortuities 
of  life  that  the  religious  enthusiast  is  deluded: 
under  a  guise  stolen  from  piety,  Chance  is  his 
divinity.  He  believes,  and  he  believes  justly, 
that  every  seeming  fortuity  is  under  the  absolute 
control  of  the  Divine  hand;  but  in  virtue  of  the 
peculiar  interest  he  supposes  himself  to  have  on 
high,  he  is  tempted  to  think  that  these  contingen- 
cies are  almost  at  his  command.  This  belief  natur- 
ally inclines  him  to  pay  more  regard  to  the  unusual 
than  to  the  common  course  of  events.  In  contem- 
plating God  as  the  disposer  of  chances,  he  forgets 
Him  who  is  the  governor  of  the  world  by  known  and 
permanent  laws.  All  the  honor  which  he  does  to 
one  of  the  divine  attributes,  is  in  fact  stolen  from 


DOCTRINE    OF    PROVIDENCE.  123 

the  reverence  due  to  another; — but  "the  Lord  ab- 
horreth  robbery  for  offering." 

A  propensity  to  look  more  to  chance  than  to 
probability  is  known  invariably  to  debilitate  the 
reasoning  faculty,  and  to  vitiate  the  moral  senti- 
ments; and  these  constant  effects  are  more  often 
aggravated  than  mitigated  by  the  accession  of  relig- 
ious sentiments.  The  illusions  of  hope  then  assume 
a  tone  of  authority  which  effectually  silences  the 
whispers  of  common  sense;  and  the  imagination, 
more  highly  stimulated  than  when  it  fed  only  on 
things  of  earth,  boldly  makes  a  prey  of  the  divine 
power  and  goodness,  to  the  utter  subversion  of  hum- 
ble piety.  A  sanguine  temper,  quickened  by  per- 
verted notions  of  religion,  easily  impels  a  man  to 
believe  that  he  is  privileged  or  skilled  to  penetrate 
the  intentions  of  Providence  towards  himself  and 
the  anticipations  he  forms  on  this  ground,  acquire 
so  much  consistency  by  being  perpetually  handled, 
that  he  deems  them  to  form  a  much  more  certain 
rule  of  conduct  than  he  could  derive  from  the  fore- 
castings  of  prudence,  or  even  from  the  dictates  of 
morality. 

Delusions  of  this  kind  are  the  real  sources  of 
many  of  those  sad  delinquencies  which  so  often 
bring  reproach  upon  a  profession  of  religion.  The 
world  loves  to  call  the  offender  a  villain;  but  in  fact 
he  was  not  worse  than  an  enthusiast.  He  who  in 
conducting  the  daily  affairs  of  life  has  acquired  the 
settled  habits  of  calculating  rather  upon  what  is 
possible  than  upon  what  is  probable,  naturally  slides 


124  ABUSES    OF    THE 

into  the  mischievous  error  of  paying  court  to  For- 
tune, rather  than  to  Virtue.  Nor  will  his  integrity 
or  his  principles  of  honor  be  at  all  strengthened  by 
the  mere  metonymy  of  calling  Fortune — Providence. 
It  is  easy  to  fix  the  eye  upon  the  clouds  in  expec- 
tation of  help  from  above  with  so  much  intentness, 
that  the  tables  of  right  and  wrong,  which  stand 
before  us,  shall  scarcely  be  seen.  This  very  expec- 
tation is  a  contempt  of  prudence,  and  it  is  not  often 
seen  that  those  who  slight  Prudence,  pay  much  re- 
gard to  her  sister — Probity. 

Or  if  consequences  so  serious  do  not  follow  from 
the  notion  that  the  fortuities  of  life  are  an  available 
fund  at  the  disposal  of  the  favorite  of  heaven,  yet 
this  belief  can  hardly  fail  to  spread  an  infection  of 
sloth  and  presumption  through  the  character.  The 
enthusiast  will  certainly  be  remiss  and  dilatory  in 
arduous  and  laborious  duties.  Hope,  which  is  the 
irrcentive  to  exertion  in  well-ordered  and  energetic 
minds,  slackens  every  effort  if  the  understanding  be 
crazed.  The  wheel  of  toil  stands  still  while  the 
devotee  implores  assistance  from  above.  Or  if  he 
possesses  more  of  activity,  the  same  false  principle 
prompts  him  to  engage  in  enterprises  from  which, 
if  the  expected  contingent  to  be  furnished  by — 
Providence,  be  deducted,  scarcely  a  shred  of  fair 
probability  remains  to  recommend  the  scheme. 

If  the  course  of  events  in  human  life  were  as 
constant  and  uniform  as  the  phenomena  of  the 
material  morld,  none  but  madmen  would  build  their 
hopes  upon  the  irregularities  by  which  it  is  diversi- 


DOCTRINE    OF    PROVIDENCE.  125 

fied.  Nor  would  the  enthusiast  do  so  if  he  gave 
heed  to  the  principles  that  impose  order  upon  the 
apparent  chaos  of  fortuities  from  which  the  many 
colored  line  of  human  life  is  spun.  To  expose  then 
the  error  of  those  who,  on  pretext  of  faith  in  provi- 
dence, build  presumptuous  expectations  upon  the 
throws  of  fortune,  we  must  analyse  the  confused 
mass  of  contingencies  to  which  human  life  is  liable. 
This  analysis  leaves  the  folly  and  impropriety  of 
the  enthusiast  without  excuse. 

Any  one  who  recals  to  his  recollection  the  inci- 
dents, great  and  small,  that  have  filled  up  the  days 
of  a  year  past;  will  find  it  easy  to  divide  them  into 
two  classes,  of  which  the  first,  and  the  larger,  com- 
prises those  events  which  common  sense  and  expe- 
rience might  have  enabled  him  to  anticipate,  and 
which,  if  he  were  wise,  he  did  actually  anticipate, 
so  far  as  was  necessary  for  the  regulation  of  his  con- 
duct. The  ground  of  such  calculations  of  futurity 
is  nothing  else  than  the  uniform  course  of  the  ma- 
terial world,  and  the  permanent  principles  of  hu- 
man nature,  and  the  established  order  of  the  social 
system:  all  these,  though  confessedly  liable  to  many 
interruptions,  are  yet  so  far  constant  as  to  afibrd,  on 
the  whole,  a  safe  rule  of  calculation.  If  there  were  no 
such  uniformity  in  the  course  of  events,  the  active 
and  reasoning  faculties  of  man  would  be  of  no  avail  to 
himj  for  the  exercise  of  them  might  as  probably  be 
ruinous  as  serviceable.  In  the  whirl  of  such  a  sup- 
posed anarchy  of  nature,  an  intelligent  agent  must 
refrain  from  every  movement,  and  resign  himself  to 


126  ABUSES     OF    THE 

be  borne  along  by  the  eddies  of  confusion.  But 
this  is  not  the  character  of  the  world  we  inhabit:  the 
connection  of  physical  causes  and  ejffects  is  known 
and  calculable,  so  that  the  results  of  human  labor 
are  liable  to  only  a  small  deduction  on  account  of 
occasional  irregularities.  We  plant  and  sow,  and 
lay  up  stores,  and  build,  and  construct  machines, 
in  tranquil  hope  of  the  expected  benefit;  and  indeed, 
if  the  variations  and  irregularities  of  nature  were 
much  greater  and  more  frequent  than  they  are,  or 
even  if  disappointment  were  as  common  as  suc- 
cess, the  part  of  wisdom  would  still  be  the  same; 
for  the  laws  of  nature,  though  never  so  much  bro- 
ken in  upon  by  incalculable  accidents,  would  still 
afford  some  ground  of  expectation;  and  an  intelli- 
gent agent  will  always  prefer  to  act  on  even  the 
slenderest  hope  which  reason  approves,  rather  than 
to  lie  supine  in  the  ruinous  wheel-way  of  chance. 
And  notwithstanding  its  many  real,  and  many  ap- 
parent irregularities,  there  is  also  a  settled  order 
of  causes  and  effects  in  the  human  system,  as  well 
as  in  the  material  world.  The  foundation  of  this 
settled  order  is — the  sameness  of  human  nature  in 
its  animal,  intellectual,  and  moral  constitution,  of 
which  the  anomalies  are  never  so  great  as  to  break 
up  all  resemblance  to  the  common  pattern.  Then 
those  conventional  modes  of  thinking  and  acting 
which  sway  the  conduct  of  the  mass  of  mankind, 
strengthen  the  tendency  to  uniformity,  and  greatly 
counteract  all  disturbing  causes.  Then  again  the 
sanctioned  institutions  of  society  give  stability  and 


DOCTRINE    OF    PROVIDENCE.  127 

permanence  to  the  order  of  events,  and  altogether 
afford  so  much  security  in  calculating  upon  the 
future,  that,  whoever  by  observation  and  reflection 
has  become  well  skilled  in  the  ordinary  movements 
of  the  machinery  of  life,  may,  with  confidence  and 
calmness,  if  not  with  absolute  assurance  of  success, 
risk  his  most  important  interests  upon  the  issue  of 
well  concerted  plans. 

Skill  and  sagacity  in  managing  the  affairs  of  com- 
mon life,  or  wisdom  in  counsel  and  command,  is 
nothing  else  than  an  extensive  and  ready  knowl- 
edge of  the  intricate  movements  of  the  great  ma- 
chine of  the  social  system;  and  the  high  price 
which  this  skill  and  wisdom  always  bears  among 
men,  represents,  in  the  first  place,  the  perplexing 
irregularities  of  the  system  to  which  human  agency 
is  to  be  conformed;  and,  in  the  second,  the  real  and 
substantial  uniformity  of  the  movements  of  that  sys- 
tem. For  it  is  plain  that  if  there  were  no  perplex- 
ing irregularities,  superior  sagacity  would  not  be  in 
request;  or,  on  the  other  hand,  if  there  were  not 
a  real  constancy  in  the  course  of  affairs,  the  greatest 
sagacity  would  be  found  to  be  of  no  avail,  and, 
therefore,  would  be  in  no  esteem. 

There  is  then  a  substantial,  if  not  an  immovable 
substratum  of  causes  and  effects,  upon  which,  for  the 
practical  and  important  purposes  of  life,  calcula- 
tions of  futurity  may  be  formed.  And  this  is  the 
basis,  and  this  alone,  on  which  a  wise  man  rests  his 
hopes  and  constructs  his  plans:  he  well  knows  that 
his  fairest  hopes  may  be  dissipated,  and  his  best 


128  ABUSES    OF    THE 

plans  overthrown;  and  yet,  though  the  hurricanes 
of  misfortune  were  a  thousand  times  to  scatter  his 
labors,  he  will  still  go  on  to  renew  them  in  con- 
formity with  the  same  principles  of  calculation. 
jPor  no  other  principles  are  known  to  him,  and  the  ex- 
tremest  caprices  of  fortune  will  never  so  prevail 
over  his  constancy,  as  to  induce  him  to  do  homage 
to  chance. 

The  second,  and  the  less  numerous  class  of  events 
that  make  up  the  course  of  human  life,  are  those 
which  no  sagacity  could  have  anticipated;  for 
though  in  themselves  they  were  only  the  natural 
consequences  of  common  causes,  yet  those  causes 
were  either  concealed  or  remote,  and  were,  to  us 
and  to  our  agency,  the  same  as  if  they  had  been  ab- 
solutely fortuitous.  By  far  the  larger  proportion  of 
these  accidents  arise  from  the  intricate  connections 
of  the  social  system.  The  thread  of  every  life  is 
entangled  with  other  threads,  beyond  all  reach  of 
calculation.  The  weal  and  woe  of  each  depends, 
by  innumerable  correspondencies,  upon  the  will, 
and  caprices,  and  fortune,  not  merely  of  the  individ- 
uals of  his  immediate  circle,  but  upon  those  of 
myriads  of  whom  he  knows  nothing.  Or,  strictly 
speaking,  the  tie  of  mutual  influence  passes  without 
a  break,  from  hand  to  hand,  throughout  the  human 
family:  there  is  no  independence,  no  insulation,  in 
the  lot  of  man,  and,  therefore,  there  can  be  no  abso- 
lute calculation  of  future  fortunes;  for  he  whose 
will  or  caprice  is  to  govern  that  lot  stands,  per- 
haps, at  the  distance  of  a  thousand  removes   from 


DOCTRINE  OF  PROVIDENCE.  129 

the  subject  of  it,  and  the  attenuated  influence  winds 
its  way  in  ten  thousand  meanders  before  it  reaches 
the  point  of  its  destination. 

Both  these  classes  of  events  are  manifestly  nec- 
essary to  the  full  development  of  the  faculties  of 
human  nature.  If,  for  example,  there  were  no  con- 
stancy in  the  events  of  life,  there  would  be  no  room 
left  for  rational  agency:  and  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  were  no  inconstancy,  the  operations  of  the 
reasoning  faculty  would  fall  into  a  mechanical  reg- 
ularity, and  the  imagination  and  the  passions  would 
be  iron-bound,  as  by  the  immobility  of  fate.  It 
is  by  the  admirable  combination  of  the  two  prin- 
ciples of  order  and  disorder,  of  uniformity  and 
variety,  of  certainty  and  of  chance;  that  the  facul- 
ties and  desires  are  wrought  up  to  their  full  play 
of  energy  and  vivacity — of  reason  and  of  feeling. 
But  it  is  especially  in  connection  with  the  doctrine 
of  Providence  that  we  have  at  present  to  consider 
these  two  elements  of  human  life;  and  as  to  the 
first  of  them,  it  is  evident  that  the  settled  order  of 
causes  and  effects,  so  far  as  it  may  be  ascertained 
by  observation  and  experience,  claims  the  respect 
and  obedience  of  every  intelligent  agent;  since  it  is 
nothing  less  than  the  implicit  will  of  the  Author  of 
nature,  legibly  written  upon  the  constitution  of  the 
world.  This  will  is  sanctioned  by  immediate  re- 
wards and  punishments; — health,  wipalth,  prosperity, 
are  the  usual  consequents  of  obedience;  while  sick- 
ness, poverty,  degradation,  are  the  almost  certain  in- 
flictions that  attend  a  negligent  interpretation,  or 
12 


130  ABUSES    OF    THE 

a  presumptuous  disregard  of  it.  The  dictates  of 
prudence  are  in  truth  the  commands  of  God,  and 
His  benevolence  is  vindicated  by  the  fact  that  the 
miseries  of  life  are  to  a  very  great  extent  attributa- 
ble to  a  contempt  of  those  commands. 

But  there  is  a  higher  government  of  men,  as  moral 
and  religious  beings,  which  is  carried  on  chiefly  by 
means  of  the  fortuities  of  life.  Those  unforeseen 
accidents  which  so  often  control  the  lot  of  men^ 
constitute  a  superstratum  in  the  system  of  human 
affairs,  wherein,  peculiarly,  the  Divine  Providence 
holds  empire  for  the  accomplishment  of  its  special 
purposes.  It  is  from  this  hidden  and  inexhaustible 
mine  of  chances — chances,  as  we  must  call  them, 
that  the  Governor  of  the  world  draws,  with  unfath- 
omable skill,  the  materials  of  his  dispensations  to- 
wards each  individual  of  mankind.  The  world  of 
nature  affords  no  instances  of  complicated  and 
exact  contrivance,  comparable  to  that  which  so  ar- 
ranges the  vast  chaos  of  contingencies  as  to  pro- 
duce, with  unerring  precision,  a  special  order  of 
events  to  every  individual  of  the  human  family. 
Amid  the  whirl  of  myriads  of  fortuities,  the  means 
are  selected  and  combined  for  constructing  as  many 
independent  machineries  of  moral  discipline  as  there 
are  moral  agents  in  the  world;  and  each  apparatus 
is  at  once  complete  in  itself,  and  complete  as  a  part 
of  a  universal  mevement. 

If  the  special  intentions  of  Providence  towards 
individuals  were  effected  by  the  aid  of  supernatu- 
ral interpositions,  the  power  and  presence   of  the 


DOCTRINE  OF  PROVIDENCE.  131 

Supreme  Disposer  might  indeed  be  more  strikingly 
displayed;  but  his  skill  much  less.  And  herein 
especially  is  manifested  the  perfection  of  the  Di- 
vine wisdom,  that  the  most  surprising  conjunctions 
of  events  are  brought  about  by  the  simplest  means, 
and  in  a  manner  that  is  perfectly  in  harmony  with 
the  ordinary  course  of  human  affairs.  This  is  in 
fact  the  great  miracle  of  providence — that  no  mir- 
acles are  needed  to  accomplish  its  purposes.  Count- 
less series  of  events  are  travelling  on  from  remote 
quarters  towards  the  same  point;  and  each  series 
moves  in  the  beaten  track  of  ordinary  occurrences; 
but  their  intersection,  at  the  very  moment  in  which 
they  meet,  shall  serve,  perhaps,  to  give  a  new  di- 
rection to  the  affairs  of  an  empire.  The  materials 
of  the  machinery  of  providence  are  all  of  ordinary 
quality;  but  their  combination  displays  nothing  less 
than  infinite  skill. 

Having  then  these  two  distinguishable  classes  of 
events  before  us,  namely,  those  which  are  calcula- 
ble, and  those  which  are  not;  it  is  manifest  that  the 
former  exclusively  is  given  to  man  as  the  sphere  of 
his  labors,  and  for  the  exercise  of  his  skill;  while 
the  latter  is  reserved  as  the  royal  domain  of  sove- 
reign bounty  and  infinite  wisdom.  The  enthusiast, 
therefore,  who  neglects  and  contemns  those  dic- 
tates of  common  sense  which  are  derived  from  the 
calculable  course  of  human  affairs,  and  who  founds 
his  plans  and  expectations  upon  the  unknou'n  pro- 
cedures of  Providence,  is  chargeable,  not  merely 
with  folly,  but  with  an  impious  intrusion  upon  the 


132  ABUSES    OF    THE 

peculiar  sphere  of  the  divine  agency.  This  impiety 
is  shown  in  a  strong  light  when  viewed  in  connection 
with  those  great  principles  which  may,  not  obscure- 
ly, be  discerned  to  govern  the  dispensations  of  Prov- 
idence towards  mankind. 

In  the  divine  management  of  the  fortuitous  events 
of  life,  there  is,  in  the  first  place,  visible,  some  oc- 
casional flashes  of  that  retributive  justice  which,  in 
the  future  world,  is  to  obtain  its  long  postponed  and 
perfect  triumph.  There  are  instances  which,  though 
not  very  common,  are  frequent  enough  to  keep  alive 
the  salutary  fears  of  mankind,  wherein  vindictive  vis- 
itations speak  articulately  in  attestation  of  the  right- 
eous judgment  of  God  upon  them  that  do  evil. 
Outrageous  villanies,  or  appalling  profaneness,  some- 
times draw  upon  the  criminal  the  instant  bolt  of 
divine  wrath  and  in  so  remarkable  a  manner,  that 
the  most  irreligious  minds  are  quelled  with  a  sud- 
den awe,  and  confess  the  fearful  hand  of  God.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  is  just  perceptible,  as  it  were, 
a  gleam  of  divine  approbation,  displayed  in  a  signal 
rewarding  of  the  righteous,  even  in  the  present  life: 
— a  blessing  "which  maketh  rich"  rests  sometimes 
conspicuously  upon  the  habitation  of  disinterested 
and  active  virtue: — "the  righteous  is  as  a  tree  plant- 
ed by  the  rivers  of  water; — whatsoever  he  doeth, 
prospers."  In  these  anomalous  cases  of  anticipated 
retribution,  the  punishment  or  the  reward  does  not 
arrive  in  the  ordinary  course  of  common  causes; 
but  starts  forth  suddenly  from  that  store-house  of 
fortuities  whence  the  divine  providence  draws  its 


DOCTRINE    OF    PROVIDENCE. 


1J3 


means  of  government.  If  the  oppressor,  by  rousing 
the  resentment  of  mankind,  is  dragged  from  tlie 
seat  of  power,  and  trodden  in  the  dust;  or  if  the 
villain  who  "plotteth  mischief  against  his  neighbor 
on  his  bed,"  is  at  length  caught  in  his  own  net, 
and  despoiled  of  his  wrongful  gains,  these  visita- 
tions of  justice,  though  truly  retributive,  belong 
plainly  to  the  known  order  of  causes  and  effects: — 
they  are  nothing  more  than  the  natural  issues  of 
the  culprit's  course;  and  therefore  do  not  specially 
declare  the  interference  of  heaven.  But  there  are  in- 
stances of  another  kind,  in  which  the  ruin  of  villany 
or  of  violence  comes  speeding  ^on  a  shaft  from 
above,  which  though  seemingly  shot  at  random, 
yet  hits  its  victim  with  a  precision  and  a  pecu- 
liarity that  proclaims  the  unerring  hand  of  divine 
justice. 

In  like  manner  there  are  remarkable  recompenses 
of  integrity,  of  liberality,  of  kindness  to  strangers, 
of  duty  to  parents,  which  arrive  by  means  so  remote 
from  common  probability,  and  yet  so  simple,  that 
the  approbation  of  Him  who  "taketh  pleasure  in 
the  path  of  the  just,"  is  written  upon  the  unexpected 
boon.  There  are  few  family  histories  that  would 
not  afford  examples  of  such  conspicuous  retributions. 
Yet  as  they  are  confessedly  rare,  and  administered 
by  rules  absolutely  inscrutable  to  human  penetration 
there  can  hardly  be  a  more  daring  impiety  than,  in 
particular  instances,  to  entertain  the  expectation  of 
their  occurrence.  But  the  enthusiast  finds  it  hard 
to  abstain  from  such  expectations,  and  is  tempted 
*i2 


134  ABUSES    OF    THE 

perpetually  to  indulge  hopes  of  special  boons  in 
reward  of  his  services,  and  is  forward  and  ingenious 
in  giving  an  interpretation  that  flatters  his  spiritual 
vanity  to  every  common  favor  of  providence; — the 
bottles  of  heaven  are  never  stopped  but  to  gratify 
his  taste  for  fine  weather!  A  readiness  to  announce 
the  wrath  of  heaven  upon  offenders,  is  a  presump- 
tion which  characterizes  not  the  mere  enthusiast, 
but  the  malign  fanatic,  and  therefore  comes  not 
properly  within  our  subject;  and  yet  the  species  of 
enthusiasm  now  under  consideration,  is  very  seldom 
free  from  some  such  tendency. 

In  the  divine  management  of  the  fortuities  of 
life,  there  may  also  be  very  plainly  perceived  a  dis- 
pensation of  moral  exercise,  specifically  adapted  to 
the  temper  and  powers  of  the  individual.  No  one 
can  look  back  upon  his  own  history  without  meet- 
ing unquestionable  instances  of  this  sort  of  educa- 
tional adjustment  of  his  lot,  effected  by  means  that 
were  wholly  independent  of  his  own  choice  or  agen- 
cy.— The  casual  meeting  with  a  stranger,  or  an  un- 
expected interview  with  a  friend; — the  accidental 
postponement  of  afi'airs; — the  loss  of  a  letter,  a 
shower,  a  trivial  indisposition,  the  caprice  of  an 
associate — these,  or  similar  fortuities,  have  been 
the  determining  causes  of  events,  not  only  important 
in  themselves,  but  of  peculiar  significance  and  use 
in  that  process  of  discipline  which  the  character  of 
the  individual  was  to  undergo.  These  new  cur- 
rents in  the  course  of  life  proved,  in  the  issue, 
specifically  proper  for  putting  in  action  the  latent 


DOCTRINE    OP    PROVIDENCE.  135 

faculties  of  the  mind,  or  for  holding  in  check  its 
dangerous  propensities.  Whoever  is  quite  uncon- 
scious of  this  sort  of  overruling  of  his  affairs  by 
means  of  apparent  accidents,  must  be  very  little 
addicted  to  habits  of  intelligent  reflection. 

Doubtless,  every  man's  choice  and  conduct  deter- 
mine to  a  great  extent  his  lot  and  occupation;  but 
not  seldom,  a  course  of  life  much  better  fitted  to 
his  temper  and  abilities  than  the  one  he  would  fain 
substitute  for  it,  has  year  after  year,  and  in  spite  of 
his  reluctances,  fixed  his  place  and  employment  in 
society;  and  this  unchosen  lot  has,  if  we  may  so 
speak,  been  constructed  from  the  floating  fragments 
of  other  men's  fortunes,  drifted  by  the  accidents  of 
wind  and  tide  across  the  billows  of  life,  till  they 
were  stranded  at  the  very  spot  where  the  individual 
for  whom  they  were  destined  was  ready  to  receive 
them.  By  such  strong  and  nicely  fitted  movements 
of  Providence,  it  is  that  the  tasks  of  life  are  distrib- 
uted where  best  they  may  be  performed,  and  its  bur- 
dens apportioned  where  best  they  may  be  sustained. 
By  accidents  of  birth  or  connection,  the  bold,  the 
sanguine,  the  energetic,  are  led  into  the  front  of 
the  field  of  arduous  exertion,  while  by  similar  fortui- 
ties, quite  as  often  as  by  choice,  the  pusillanimous, 
the  fickle,  the  faint-hearted,  are  suffered  to  spend 
their  days  under  the  shelter  of  ease,  and  in  the  re- 
cesses of  domestic  tranquillity. 

But  who  shall  profess  so  to  understand  his  partic- 
ular temper,  and  so  to  estimate  his  talents,  as  might 
qualify  him  to  anticipate  the  special  dispensations 


136  ABUSES    OF    THE 

of  Providence  in  his  own  case?  Such  knowledge, 
surely,  every  wise  man  will  confess  to  be  "too  won- 
derful" for  him.  To  the  supreme  intelligence  alone 
it  belongs  to  distribute  to  every  one  his  lot,  and  to 
"fix  the  bounds"  of  his  abode.  Yet  there  are  per- 
sons, whose  persuasion  of  what  ought  to  be  their 
place  and  destiny  is  so  confidently  held,  that  a  long 
life  of  disappointment  does  not  rob  them  of  the 
hypothesis  of  self-love;  and  just  in  proportion  to  the 
firmness  of  their  faith  in  a  particular  providence, 
will  be  their  propensity  to  quarrel  with  heaven,  as 
if  it  debarred  them  from  their  right  in  deferring  to 
realize  the  anticipated  destiny. — Presumption,  when 
it  takes  its  commencement  in  religion,  naturally 
ends  in  impiety. 

Men  who  look  no  farther  than  the  ])resent  sceire, 
may,  with  less  glaring  inconsistency,  vent  their  vex- 
ation in  accusing  the  blindness  and  partiality  of 
fate  which  has  held  their  eminent  talents  and  their 
peculiar  merits  so  long  under  the  veil  of  obscurity; 
but  those  who  acknowledge  at  once  a  disposing 
providence  and  a  future  life,  might  surely  find 
considerations  proper  for  imposing  silence  upon  such 
murmurings  of  disappointed  ambition.  Let  it  be 
granted  to  a  man  that  his  vanity  does  not  deceive 
him,  when  he  complains  that  adverse  fortune  has 
prevented  his  entering  the  very  course  upon  which 
nature  has  fitted  him  to  shine,  and  has,  with  unre- 
lenting severity  confined  him,  year  after  year,  to  a 
drudgery  in  which  he  was  not  qualified  to  win  even 
a   common  measure  of  success; — all  this  may   be 


DOCTRINE  OF  PROVIDENCE.  137 

true:  but  if  the  complainant  be  a  Christian,  he  can- 
not find  it  difficult  to  admit  that  this  clashing  of  his 
fortune  with  his  capacities  or  his  tastes  may  have 
been  the  very  exercise  necessary  to  insure  his  ulti- 
mate welfare.  Who  will  deny  that  the  reasons  of 
the  divine  conduct  towards  those  who  are  in  train- 
ing for  an  endless  course  must  always  lie  at  an  in- 
finite distance  beyond  the  range  of  created  vision.^ 
Who  shall  venture  even  to  surmise  what  course  of 
events  may  best  foster  the  germ  of  an  imperishable 
life; — or  who  conjecture  what  contraventions  of  the 
hopes  and  interests  of  an  individual  may  find  their 
reasons  and  necessity  in  the  wide  universe  of  con- 
sequences incalculably  remote.'' 

Whether  the  promise  "that  all  things  shall  work 
together  for  good  to  those  who  love  God,"  is  to  be 
accomplished  by  perpetual  sunshine  or  by  incessant 
storms,  no  one  can  anticipate  in  his  own  case:— or 
if  any  one  were  excepted,  it  must  be  the  enthusiast, 
who  might  almost  with  certainty  calculate  upon  re- 
ceiving a  dispensation  the  very  reverse  of  that  which 
he  has  fondly  anticipated.  He  might  thus  calcu- 
late, both  because  his  expectations  are  in  themselves 
exorbitant  and  improbable;  and  because  the  pre- 
sumptuous temper  from  which  they  spring  loudly 
calls  for  the  rebukes  of  heaven. 

Amid  the  perplexities  which  arise  from  the  unex- 
pected exents  of  life,  we  are  not  left  without  suffi- 
cient guidance;  for  although,  in  particular  instan- 
ces the  most  reasonable  calculations  are  baffled,  and 
the  best  plans  subverted;  yet  there  remains  in  our 


138  ABUSES    OF    THE 

hands  the  immutable  rule  of  moral  rectitude,  in  an 
inflexible  adherence  to  which  we  shall  avoid  what  is 
chiefly  to  be  dreaded  in  calamity — the  dismal  mean- 
ings of  a  wounded  conscience.  "He  that  walketh 
uprightly  walketh  surely,"  even  in  the  path  of  dis- 
aster. And  while,  on  the  one  hand,  he  steadily 
pursues  the  track  which  common  prudence  marks 
out;  and,  on  the  other,  listens  with  respectful  atten- 
tion to  the  dictates  of  honor  and  probity,  he  may 
without  danger  of  enthusiasm  ask  and  hope  for  the 
especial  aids  of  Divine  Providence,  in  overruling 
those  events  which  lie  beyond  the  reach  of  human 
agency. 

Prayer  and  calculation  are  duties  never  incom- 
patible; never  to  be  disjoined,  and  never  to  shackle 
one  the  other.  For  while  those  events  only  which 
are  probable  ought  to  be  assumed  as  the  basis  of 
plans  for  futurity;  yet,  whatever  is  not  manifestly 
impossible,  or  in  a  high  degree  improbable,  may  be 
made  the  object  of  submissive  petition.  Few  per- 
sons, and  none  who  have  known  vicissitudes,  can 
look  back  upon  past  years  without  recollecting  sig- 
nal occasions  on  which  they  have  been  rescued 
from  the  impending  and  apparently  inevitable  con- 
sequences of  their  own  misconduct,  or  imprudence, 
or  want  of  ability,  by  extraordinary  interventions  in 
the  very  crisis  of  their  fate.  Or,  perhaps,  they  have 
been  placed  by  accidents  in  circumstances  of  peril, 
where,  as  it  seemed,  there  remained  not  a  possibility 
of  escape.  But  while  the  ruin  was  yet  in  descent, 
rescue,  which  it  would  have  been  madness  to  expect. 


DOCTRINE    OF    PROVIDENCE.  139 

came  in  to  preserve  life,  fortune,  or  reputation,  from 
the  imminent  destruction.  That  such  conspicuous 
deliverances  do  actually  occur  is  matter  of  fact;  nor 
will  the  Christian  endure  that  they  should  be  attri- 
buted to  any  other  cause  than  the  special  care  and 
kindness  of  his  heavenly  Father:  and  yet,  as  they 
belong  to  an  economy  which  stretches  into  eternity, 
and  as  they  are  not  administered  on  any  ascertained 
rule,  they  can  never  come  within  the  range  of  our 
calculations,  or  be  admitted  to  influence  our  plans: 
— a  propensity  to  indulge  such  expectations  belongs 
to  infirmity  of  mind,  and  is  in  fact  an  intrusion  upon 
the  counsels  of  infinite  wisdom. 

Nevertheless,  so -long  as  these  extraordinary  inter- 
ventions are  known  to  consist  with  the  rules  of  the 
divine  government,  they  may  be  contemplated  as 
possible  without  violating  the  respect  that  is  due  to  its 
ordinary  procedures,  and  may,  therefore,  without  en- 
thusiasm, be  solicited  in  tiie  hour  of  peril  or  perplex- 
ity. The  gracious  "Hearer  of  prayer,"  who,  on  past 
and  well  remembered  occasions,  has  signally  given 
deliverance,  may  do  so  again,  even  when,  if  we 
think  of  our  own  imprudence,  we  have  reason  to 
expect  nothing  less  than  destruction.  What  are 
termed  by  irreligious  men  "the  fortunate  chances 
of  life,"  will  be  regarded  by  the  devout  mind  as 
constituting  a  hidden  treasury  of  boons,  held  at  the 
disposal  of  a  gracious  hand  for  the  incitement  of 
prayer,  and  for  the  reward  of  humble  faith.  The 
enthusiast  who,  in  contempt  of  common  sense  and 
of  rectitude,  presumes  upon  the  existence  of  this 


140  ABUSES    OF    THE 

extraordinary  fund,  forfeits,  by  such  impiety,  his 
interest  in  its  stores.  But  the  prudent  and  the 
pious,  while  they  labor  and  calculate  in  strict  con- 
formity to  the  known  and  ordinary  course  of  events, 
shall  not  seldom  find  that  from  this  very  treasury  of 
contingencies  God  is  ^^rich  to  them  that  call  upon 
Him." 

In  minds  of  a  puny  form,  whose  enthusiasm  is 
commonly  mingled  with  some  degrees  of  abject  su- 
perstition, the  doctrine  of  a  particular  providence 
is  liable  to  be  degraded  by  habitual  association 
with  trivial  and  sordid  solicitudes.  This  or  that 
paltry  wish  is  gratified,  or  vulgar  care  relieved,  "by 
the  kindness  of  providence;"  and  thanks  are  ren- 
dered for  helps,  comforts,  deliverances,  of  so  mean 
an  order  that  the  respectable  language  of  piety  is 
burlesqued  by  the  ludicrous  character  of  the  oc- 
casion on  which  it  is  used.  The  fault  in  these 
instances  does  not  consist  in  an  error  of  opinion, 
as  if  even  the  most  trivial  events  were  not,  equally 
with  the  most  considerable,  under  the  divine  man- 
agement; but  it  is  a  perversion  and  degradation  of 
feeling  which  allows  the  mind  to  be  occupied  with 
whatever  is  frivolous,  to  the  exclusion  of  whatever 
is  important.  These  petty  spirits,  who  draw  hourly, 
from  the  matters  of  their  personal  comfort  or  indul- 
gence, so  many  occasions  of  prayer  and  praise,  are 
most  often  seen  to  be  insensible  to  motives  of  a 
higher  kind;  they  have  no  perception  of  the  rel- 
ative magnitude  of  objects; — no  sense  of  proper- 


DOCTRINE    OF    PROVIDENCE.  141 

tion:  they  feel  little  or  no  interest  in  what  does  not 
affect  themselves.      We    ought,  however,   to  grant 
indulgence  to  the   infirmity  of  the   feeble: — if  the 
soul  be  indeed  incapable  of  expansion,    it  is    bet- 
ter   it  should   be   devout  in   trifles,    than   not  de- 
vout  at   all.     Yet  these  small  folks  have  need  to 
be  warned  of  the  danger  of  mistaking  the  gratula- 
tions  of  selfishness  for  the  gratitude  of  piety.     It  is 
a  rare  perfection  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  fac- 
ulties which  allows  all  objects,  great  and  small,  to 
be  distinctly  perceived,  and   perceived  in  their  rel- 
ative magnitudes.     A  soul  of  this  high   finish  may 
be  devout  on  common  occasions   without  trifling: — 
it  will  gather  up  the  fragments  of  the  divine  bounty, 
that  "nothing  be  lost;"  and  yet  hold   its  energies 
and  its  solicitudes  free  for  the  embrace  of  momen- 
tous cares.     If  men  of  expanded  intellect,  and  high 
feeling   and    great    activity  are   excused    in    their 
neglect  of  small  things,  this  indulgence  is  founded 
upon  a  recollection  of  the  contractedness  of  the 
human  mind,  even  at  the  best.     The  forgetfulness 
of  lesser  matters  which  so  often  belongs  to  energy 
of  character,  is,  after  all,  not  a  perfection,  but  a 
weakness; — and  a  more  complete  expansion  of  mind 
— a  still  more  vigorous  pulse  of  life,  would  dispel 
the  torpor  of  which  such  neglects  are  the  symp- 
toms. 

Thwarted  enthusiasm  naturally  generates   impi- 
ous petulance.     If  we  encumber  the  Providence  of 
God  with  unwarranted  expectations,  it  will  be  difli- 
13 


142  ABUSES    OF    THE 

cult  not  SO  to  murmur  under  disappointment  as 
those  do  who  think  themselves  defrauded  of  their 
right.  In  truth,  amidst  the  sharpness  of  sudden 
calamity,  or  the  pressure  of  continued  adversity, 
the  most  sane  minds  are  tempted  to  indulge  re- 
pinings  which  reason,  not  less  than  piety,  utterly 
condemns.  The  imputation  of  defective  wisdom, 
or  justice,  or  goodness,  to  the  Being  of  whom  we 
can  form  no  notion  apart  from  the  ideas  of  abso- 
lute knowledge,  rectitude,  and  benevolence,  is 
much  too  absurd  to  need  a  formal  refutation;  and 
yet  how  often  does  it  survive  all  the  rebukes  of 
good  sense  and  religion.  So  egregious  and  pal- 
pable an  error  could  not  find  a  moment's  lodgment 
in  the  heart,  if  it  did  not  meet  a  surface  of  adhe- 
sion where  presumption  has  been  torn  away.  The 
exaggerations  of  self-love,  not  quelled,  but  rather 
inflated  by  an  enthusiastic  piety,  inspire  feelings  of 
personal  importance  so  enormous,  that  even  the  in- 
finitude of  the  divine  attributes  is  made  to  shrink 
down  to  the  measure  of  equality  with  man.  When 
illusions  such  as  these  are  rent  and  scattered,  how 
pitiable  is  the  conscious  destitution  and  meanness  of 
the  deluded  spirit!  With  how  cruel  a  shock  does  it 
fall  back  upon  its  true  place  in  the  vast  system  of 
providence! 

Whoever  entertains,  as  every  Christian  ought,  a 
strong  and  consoling  belief  of  the  doctrine  of  a 
Particular  Providence,  which  cares  for  the  welfare 
of  each,  should  not  forget  to  connect  with  that  be- 
lief some  general  notions  at  least,  of  that  system 


DOCTRINE    OF    PROVIDENCE.  143 

of  Universal  Providence  which  secures  individual 
interests,  consistently  with  the  well-being  of  the 
whole.  Such  notions,  though  very  defective,  or 
even  in  part  erroneous,  may  serve  first  to  check 
presumption,  and  then  to  impose  silence  upon  those 
murmurs  which  are  its  offspring. 

A  law  of  subordination  manifestly  pervades  that 
part  of  the  government  of  God  with  which  we  are 
acquainted,  and  may  fairly  be  supposed  to  prevail 
elsewhere.  Lesser  interests  are  the  component 
parts  of  greater;  and  so  closely  are  the  individual 
fates  of  the  human  family  interwoven,  that  each 
member,  however  insignificant  he  may  seem,  sus- 
tains a  real  relationship  of  influence  to  the  commu- 
nity. The  lot  of  each  must  therefore  be  shapen  by 
reasons  drawn  from  many — and  often  from  remote 
quarters.  Yet  in  etfecting  this  complex  combina- 
tion of  parts,  infinite  wisdom  prevents  any  clashing 
of  the  lesser  with  the  larger  movements;  and  we 
may  feel  assured  that,  on  the  grounds  either  of  mere 
equity  or  of  beneficence,  the  dispensations  of  Prov- 
idence are  as  compactly  perfect  towards  each  indi- 
vidual of  mankind  as  if  he  were  the  sole  inhabitant 
of  an  only  world.  If  Heaven,  in  its  condescension, 
were  to  implead  at  the  bar  of  human  reason,  and 
set  forth  the  motives  of  its  dealings  towards  tliis 
man  or  that,  they  might,  no  doubt,  be  alleged  and 
justified  in  every  particular,  without  making  any 
reference  to  the  intermingled  interests  of  other  men: 
and  it  might  be  shown  that  although  certain  events 
were  in  fact  followed  by  consequences  much  more 


H4  ABUSES    OF    THE 

important  to  others  than  to  the  individual  immedi- 
ately affected,  yet  they  did  in  the  fullest  sense  be- 
long to  the  personal  discipline  of  the  individual, 
and  must  have  taken  place  irrespectively  of  those 
remote  consequences. 

This  perfect  fitting  and  finishing  of  the  machinery 
of  Providence  to  individual  interests  must  be  pre- 
mised; yet  it  is  not  less  true  that  in  almost  every 
event  of  life  the  remote  consequences  vastly  out- 
weigh the  proximate  in  actual  amount  of  import- 
ance. Every  man  prospers,  or  is  overthrown;  lives, 
or  dies;  not  for  himself,  but  that  he  may  sustain 
those  around  him;  or  that  he  may  give  them  place: 
and  who  shall  attempt  to  measure  the  circle  within 
which  are  comprised  these  extensive  dependencies? 
On  principles  even  of  mathematical  calculation  each 
individual  of  the  human  family  maybe  demonstrated 
to  hold  in  his  hand  the  centre  lines  of  an  intermina- 
ble  web-work,  on  whi.ch  are  sustained  the  fortunes 
of  multitudes  of  his  successors.  These  implicated 
consequences,  if  summed  together,  make  up  there- 
fore a  weight  of  human  weal  or  woe  that  is  reflected 
back  with  an  incalculable  momentum  upon  the  lot  of 
each.  Every  one  is  then  bound  to  remember  thai 
the  personal  sufferings  or  peculiar  vicissitudes,  or 
toils  through  which  he  is  called  to  pass,  are  to  be 
estimated  and  explained  only  in  an  immeasurably 
small  proportion  if  his  single  welfare  is  regarded, 
while  their  full  price  and  value  are  not  to  be  com- 
puted unless  the  drops  of  the  morning  dew  could  be 
iuimbered. 


DOCTRINE  OF  PROVIDENCE.         145 

Immediate  proof  of  that  system  of  interminabie 
connection  which  binds  together  the  whole  human 
family  may  be  obtained  by  every  one  who  examines 
the  several  ingredients  of  his  physical,  intellectual, 
and  social  condition;  for  he  will  not  find  one  of  these 
circumstances  of  his  lot  that  is  not,  in  its  substance 
or  quality,  directly  an  effect  or  consequence  of  the 
conduct,  or  character,  or  constitution  of  his  proge- 
nitors, and  of  all  with  whom  he  has  had  to  do: — if 
they  had  been  other  than  they  were,  he  must  also 
have  been  other  than  he  is.  And  then  our  prede- 
cessors must  in  like  manner  trace  the  qualities  ot 
their  being  to  theirs;  thus  the  linking  ascends  to  the 
common  parents  of  all;  and  thus  must  it  descend — 
still  spreading  as  it  goes,  from  the  present  to  the 
last  generation  of  the  children  of  Adam. 

Nor  is  this  direct  and  obvious  kind  of  influence  the 
only  one  of  which  some  plain  indications  are  to  be 
discerned;  and  without  at  all  following  the  uncer- 
tain track  of  adventurous  speculation,  it  may  fairly 
be  surmised  that  the  same  law  of  interminable  con- 
nection— a  law  of  moral  gravitation,  stretches  far 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  human  family,  and  actually 
holds  in  union  the  great  community  of  intelligent 
beings.  Instances  of  connection  immensely  remote, 
and  yet  very  real,  might  be  adduced  in  abundance: 
the  practical  influence  of  history  is  of  this  kind. 
Whatever  actually  imparts  force  or  intensity  to  hu- 
man motives,  and  by  this  means  actually  determines 
conduct,  may  assuredly  claim  for  itself  the  title  and 


146  SYSTEM    OF 

respect  due  to  an  efficient  cause,  and  must  be  deem- 
ed to  exert  an  impulsive  power  over  the  mind.  Now 
the  records  of  history,  how  long  soever  may  have 
been  the  line  of  transmission  which  has  brought 
them  to  our  times,  fraught  as  they  are  with  instan- 
ces applicable  to  all  the  occasions  of  real  life,  do 
thus,  in  a  very  perceptible  degree,  affect  the  senti- 
ments and  mould  the  characters  of  mankind;  nor 
will  any  one  speak  slightingly  of  this  species  of 
causation  who  has  compared  the  intellectual  con- 
dition of  nations  rich  in  history,  with  that  of  a 
people  wholly  destitute  of  the  memorials  of  past 
ages.  The  story  of  the  courage,  or  constancy,  or 
wisdom  of  the  men  of  a  distant  time  becomes,  in  a 
greater  or  a  less  degree,  a  subsidiary  cause  of  the 
conduct  of  the  men  of  each  succeeding  generation. 
Thus  the  few  individuals  in  every  age  to  whom  it 
has  happened  to  live,  and  act,  and  speak  under  the 
focus  of  the  speculum  of  history,  did  actually  live, 
and  labor,  and  suffer  for  the  benefit  of  mankind  in 
all  future  times,  just  as  truly  as  a  father  toils  for  the 
advantage  of  his  family.  And  if  the  whole  amount 
of  the  influence  which  has  in  fact  flowed  from  the 
example  of  the  wise,  the  brave,  and  the  good,  could 
have  been  placed  in  prophetic  vision  before  them, 
while  in  the  midst  of  their  arduous  course,  would 
not  these  worthies  contentedly  and  gladly  have  pur- 
chased so  immense  a  wealth  of  moral  power  at  the 
price  of  their  personal  sufferings? 

Here  then,  as  a  plain  matter  of  fact,  is  an  instance 
of  boundless  causation,  connecting  certain  individu- 


UNIVERSAL    PROVIDE^fCE.  147 

als  with  myriads  of  their  species,  from  age  to  age, 
and  for  ever.  It  is  an  instance,  we  say,  and  not  more; 
for  the  voice  of  history  is  but  a  preluding  flourish  to 
that  voluminous  revelation,  which  shall  be  made  in 
the  great  day  of  consummation  of  all  that  has  been 
acted  and  suffered  upon  earth's  surface.  In  that 
day,  when  the  books  of  universal  history  are  opened 
and  read,  it  shall  doubtless  be  found  that  no  particle 
has  been  lost  of  aught  that  might  serve  to  authenti- 
cate the  maxims  of  eternal  wisdom,  or  to  vindicate 
the  righteous  government  of  God. — And  all  shall  be 
written  anew,  as  "with  a  pen  of  iron  on  the  rock  for 
ever,"  and  shall  stand  forth  as  an  imperishable  les- 
son of  warning  or  incitement  to  after-comers  on  the 
theatre  of  existence. 

Whatever  degree  of  solidity  may  be  attributed 
to  considerations  of  this  kind,  they  are  at  least  suf- 
ficiently supported  by  analogies  to  give  them  a  de- 
cided advantage  over  those  petulant  cavils  where- 
with we  are  prone  to  arraign  the  particular  dispen- 
sations of  Providence  towards  ourselves.  Are  such 
dispensations,  when  seen  in  small  portions,  mysteri- 
ous and  perplexing.''  How  can  they  be  otherwise  if, 
in  their  completed  measurements,  they  are  to  spread 
over  the  creation,  and  in  their  issues  to  endure  for 
ever.^ 

The  common  phrase — "a  mysterious  dispensation 
of  Providence,"  when  used  as  most  often  it  is,  con- 
tains the  very  substance  of  enthusiasm;  yet  of  a 
venial  enthusiasm,  for  the  occasions  which  draw  it 
forth  are  of  a  kind  that  may  be  admitted  to  excuse  a 


148  MYSTERIOUSNESS    OF 

hasty  impropriety  of  language.  To  call  any  event 
which  does  not  break  in  upon  the  known  and  es- 
tablished order  of  natural  causes — mysterious,  is 
virtually  to  assume  a  previous  knowledge  of  the  in- 
tentions of  the  Supreme  Ruler;  for  it  is  to  say  that 
His  proceedings  have  baffled  our  calculations;  and 
in  fact  it  is  only  when  we  have  formed  anticipations 
of  what  ought  to  have  been  the  course  of  events 
that  we  are  tempted  by  sudden  reverses  to  employ 
this  indefinite  expression  so  improperly.  All  the 
dispensations  of  Divine  Providence,  taken  togeth- 
er, may,  with  perfect  propriety,  be  termed  myste- 
rious, since  all  alike  are  governed  by  reasons  that 
are  hidden  and  inscrutable:  but  it  is  the  height 
of  presumption  so  to  designate  some  of  them  in  dis- 
tinction from  others.  For  example: — A  man  emi- 
nently gifted  by  nature  for  important  and  peculiar 
services,  and  trained  to  perform  them  by  a  long  and 
arduous  discipline,  and  now  just  entering  upon  the 
course  of  successful  beneficence,  and  perhaps  actu- 
ally holding  in  his  hand  the  welfare  of  a  family,  or 
a  province,  or  an  empire,  is  suddenly  smitten  to  the 
earth  by  disease  or  accident.  Sad  ruin  of  a  rare 
machinery  of  intellectual  and  moral  power!  But 
while  the  thoughtless  many  deplore  for  an  hour 
their  irreparable  loss,  the  thoughtful  few  muse  rather 
than  weep;  and  in  order  to  conceal  from  themselves 
the  irreverence  of  their  own  repinings,  exclaim — 
"How  mysterious  are  the  ways  of  heaven!"  Yes; 
but  in  the  present  instance,  what  is  mysterious? 
Not  that  human  life  should  at  all  periods  be  liable 


PROVIDENCE.  149 

to  disease,  or  the  human  frame  always  vulnerable; 
for  these  are  conditions  inseparable  from  the  pre- 
sent constitution  of  our  nature;  and  it  is  clear  that 
nothing  less  than  a  perpetual  miracle  could  exempt 
any  one  class  of  mankind  from  the  common  contin- 
gencies of  physical  life.  The  supposition  of  any 
such  constant  and  manifest  interposition — render- 
ing a  certain  description  of  persons  intactible  by 
harm,  would  be  impious  as  well  as  absurd.  No- 
thing could  suggest  to  a  sane  mind  an  idea  of  this 
sort,  if  it  did  not  gain  admittance  in  the  train  of 
those  eager  forecastings  of  the  ways  of  God  in 
which  persons  much  addicted  to  religious  medita- 
tion are  prone  to  indulge,  and  which,  though  they 
may  afford  pleasure  for  a  moment,  are  usually  pur- 
chased at  the  cost  of  relapses  into  gloomy,  or  worse 
than  gloomy  discontents. 

There  is  a  striking  incongruity  in  the  fact  that 
the  propensity  to  apply  the  equivocal  term  "myste- 
rious," to  sudden  and  afflictive  events — like  the  one 
just  specified,  is  indulged  almost  exclusively  by  the 
very  persons  whose  professed  principles  furnish 
them  with  a  sufficient  explanation  of  such  dispensa- 
tions. If  the  present  state  were  thouglit  to  comprise 
the  beginning  and  the  end  of  the  human  system, 
and  if,  at  the  same  time,  this  system  be  attributed 
to  the  Supreme  Intelligence,  then  indeed  the  pro- 
digious waste  and  destruction  which  is  continually 
taking  place,  not  only  of  the  germ  of  life,  but  of  the 
rarest  and  of  the  most  excellent  specimens  of  Divine 
art,  is  a  solecism  which  must  baffle  every  attempt  at 


150  IDEA    OP    THE 

explanation.  Let  then  the  deist,  who  knows  of  no- 
thing beyond  death,  talk  of  the  mysteries  of  Provi- 
dence; but  let  not  the  Christian,  who  is  taught  to 
think  little  of  the  present  and  much  of  the  future, 
use  language  of  this  sort. 

A  popular  and  modern  misunderstanding  of  the 
language  of  Scripture  relative  to  the  future  state, 
has  perhaps,  had  great  influence  in  enhancing  the 
gloom  and  perplexity  with  which  Christians  are 
wont  to  think  and  speak  of  sudden  and  afflictive 
visitations  of  Providence. 

Heaven — the  ultimate  and  perfected  condition  of 
human  nature,  is  thought  of,  amidst  the  toils  of  life,  as 
an  elysium  of  quiescent  bliss,  exempt,  if  not  from  ac- 
tion, at  least  from  the  necessity  of  action.  Meanwhile 
every  one  feels  that  the  ruling  tendency  and  the  uni- 
form intention  of  all  the  arrangements  of  the  present 
state,  and  of  almost  all  its  casualties,  is  to  generate 
and  to  cherish  habits  of  strenuous  exertion.  Inert- 
ness, not  less  than  vice,  is  a  seal  of  perdition.  The 
whole  course  of  nature,  and  all  the  institutions  of 
society,  and  the  ordinary  course  of  events,  and  the 
explicit  will  of  God,  declared  in  his  word,  concur  in 
opposing  that  propensity  to  rest  which  belongs  to 
the  human  mind;  and  combine  to  necessitate  submis- 
sion to  the  hard,  yet  salutary  conditions  under  which 
alone  the  most  extreme  evils  may  be  held  in  abey- 
ance, and  any  degree  of  happiness  enjoyed.  A  task 
and  duty  is  to  be  fulfilled,  in  discharging  which 
the  want  of  energy  is  punished  even  more  immedi- 


FUTURE    LIFE.  151 

ately  and  more  severely  than  the  want  of  virtuous 
motives. 

Here  then  is  visible  a  great  and  serious  incongru- 
ity between  matter  of  fact  and  the  common  antici- 
pations of  the  future  state:  it  therefore  deserves  in- 
quiry whether  these  anticipations  are  really  found- 
ed on  the  evidence  of  Scripture,  or  whether  they  are 
not  rather  the  mere  suggestions  of  sickly  spiritual 
luxuriousness.  This  is  not  the  place  for  pursuing 
such  an  inquiry;  but  it  may  be  observed,  in  passing, 
that  those  glimpses  of  the  supernal  world  which 
we  catch  from  the  Scriptures  have  in  them,  certainly, 
quite  as  much  of  the  character  of  history  as  of 
poetry,  and  impart  the  idea — not  that  there  is  less 
of  business  in  heaven  than  on  earth;  but  more. 
Unquestionably  the  felicity  of  those  beings  of  a 
higher  order,  to  whose  agency  frequent  allusions  are 
made  by  the  inspired  writers,  is  not  incompatible 
with  the  assiduities  of  a  strenuous  ministry,  to  be 
discharged,  according  to  the  best  ability  of  each,  in 
actual  and  arduous  contention  with  formidable,  and 
perhaps  sometimes  successful  opposition.  A  poetic 
notion  of  angelic  agency  having  in  it  nothing  sub- 
stantial, nothing  necessary,  nothing  difficult,  and 
which  consists  only  in  an  unreal  show  of  action  and 
movement,  and  in  which  the  result  would  be  pre- 
cisely the  same  apart  from  the  accompaniment  of  a 
swarm  of  butterfly  youths,  must  be  spurned  by  rea- 
son, as  it  is  unwarranted  by  Scripture.  Scripture 
does  not  affirm  or  imply  that  the  plenitude  of  divine 
power  is  at  all  in  more  immediate  exercise  in  the 


152  IDEA    OF    THE 

higher  world  than  in  this:  on  the  contrary,  the  reve- 
lation so  distinctly  made  of  a  countless  array  of  in- 
telligent and  vigorous  agents,  designated  usually  by 
an  epithet  of  martial  signification,  precludes  such 
an  idea.  Why  a  commission  of  subalterns; — why 
an  attendance  of  celestials  upon  the  flight  of  the 
bolt  of  omnipotence?  That  bolt,  when  actually 
flung,  needs  no  coadjutor! 

But  if  there  be  a  real  and  necessary,  not  merely  a 
shadowy  agency  in  heaven,  as  well  as  on  earth;  and 
if  human  nature  is  destined  to  act  its  part  in  such 
an  economy,  then  its  constitution,  and  the  severe 
training  it  undergoes,  are  at  once  explained;  and 
then  also,  the  removal  of  individuals  in  the  very 
prime  of  their  fitness  for  useful  labor  ceases  to  be 
impenetrably  mysterious.  This  excellent  mechan- 
ism of  matter  and  mind,  which,  beyond  any  other 
of  His  works,  declares  the  wisdom  of  the  Creator, 
and  which,  under  His  guidance  is  now  passing  the 
season  of  its  first  preparation,  shall  stand  up  anew 
from  the  dust  of  dissolution,  and  then,  with  fresh- 
ened powers,  and  with  a  store  of  hard-earned 
and  practical  wisdom  for  its  guidance,  shall  essay 
new  labors — we  say  not  perplexities  and  perils 
— in  the  service  of  God,  who  by  such  instruments 
chooses  to  accomplish  His  designs  of  beneficence. 
That  so  prodigious  a  waste  of  the  highest  qualities 
should  take  place,  as  is  implied  in  the  notions  which 
many  Christians  entertain  of  the  future  state,  is  in- 
deed hard  to  imagine.  The  mind  of  man,  formed 
as  it   is  to  be  more  tenacious  of  its   active   habits 


FUTURE    LIFE. 


153 


than  even  of  its  moral  dispositions,  is,  in  the  present 
state,  trained,  often  at  an  immense  cost  of  suffer- 
ing,   to  the    exercise  of    skill,  of  forethought,  of 
courage,  of  patience;  and  ought  it  not  to  be  infer- 
red— unless  positive  evidence  contradicts  the  sup- 
position, that  this  system  of  education  bears  some 
relation  of  fitness  to  the  state  for  which  it  is  an  ini- 
tiation?    Sliall  not  the  very  same  qualities  which 
here  are  so  sedulously  fashioned  and  finished,  be  ac- 
tually needed  and  used  in  that  future  world  of  per- 
fection?    Surely  the  idea  is  inadmissible  that  an  in- 
strument wrought  up,  at  so  much  expense  to  a  pol- 
ished fitness  for  service,  is  destined  to  be  suspended 
for  ever  on  the  palace  walls  of  heaven,  as  a  glitter- 
ing bauble,  no  more  to  make  proof  of  its  temper! 
Perhaps  a  pious,  but  needless  jealousy,  lest  the 
honor  due  to  Him  "who  worketh  all  in   all"  should 
be  in  any  degree  compromised,  has  had  influence  in 
concealing  fr-om  the  eyes  of  Christians  the  import- 
ance attributed    in   the  scriptures  to    subordinate 
agency;    and  thus,  by  a  natural  consequence,  has 
impoverished   and  enfeebled  our  ideas  of  the  hea- 
venly state.     But  assuredly  it  is  only  while  encom- 
passed by  the  dimness  and  errors  of  the  present  life 
that  there  can  be  any  danger  of  attributing  to  the 
creature  the  glory  due  to  the  Creator.     When  once 
with  open  eye  that  "excellent  glory"  has  been  con- 
templated, then  shall  it  be  understood  that  the  divine 
wisdom  is  incomparably  more  honored  by  the  skilful 
and  faithful  performances,  and  by  the  cheerful  toils 
of  agents  who  have  been  fashioned   and   fitted  for 
14 


154  IDEA    OF    THE 

service,  than  it  could  be  by  the  bare  exertions  of  irre- 
sistible power:  and  then,  when  the  absolute  depen- 
dance  of  creatures  is  thoroughly  felt — may  the  beau- 
tiful orders  of  the  heavenly  hierarchy — rising  and 
still  rising  towards  perfection,  be  seen  and  admired 
without  hazard  of  forgetting  Him  who  alone  is  abso- 
lutely perfect,  and  who  is  the  only  fountain  and  first 
cause  of  whatever  is  excellent. 

The  Scriptures  do  indeed  most  explicitly  declare, 
not  only  that  virtue  will  be  inamissible  in  heaven,  but 
that  its  happiness  will  be  unalloyed  by  fear,  or  pain, 
or  want.  But  the  mental  associations  formed  in  the 
present  state  make  it  so  difficult  to  disjoin  the  idea 
of  suffering  and  of  sorrow  from  that  of  labor,  and 
of  arduous  and  difficult  achievement,  that  we  are 
prone  to  exclude  action  as  well  as  pain  from  our 
idea  of  the  future  blessedness.  Yet  assuredly  these 
notions  may  be  separated;  and  if  it  be  possible  to 
imagine  a  perfect  freedom  from  selfish  solicitudes — 
a  perfect  acquiescence  in  the  will,  and  a  perfect 
confidence  in  the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness  of 
God;  then  also  may  we  conceive  of  toils  without 
sadness,  of  perplexities  without  perturbations,  and 
of  difficult,  or  perilous,  service  without  desponden- 
cies or  fear.  The  true  felicity  of  beings  furnished 
with  moral  sensibilities,  must  consist  in  the  full  play 
of  the  emotions  of  love,  fixed  on  the  centre  of  good; 
and  this  kind  of  happiness  is  unquestionably  com- 
patible with  any  external  condition,  not  positively 
painful:  perhaps  even  another  step  might  be  taken; 
but  the  argument  does  not  need  it.     Yet  it  should 


FUTURE    LIFE.  155 

be  remembered,  that,  in  many  signal  and  well-at- 
tested instances,  the  fervor  of  the  religious  affec- 
tions has  almost  or  entirely  obliterated  the  con- 
sciousness of  physical  suffering,  and  has  proved  its 
power  to  vanquish  every  inferior  emotion,  and  to 
fill  the  heart  with  heaven,  even  amid  the  utmost  in- 
tensities of  pain.  Much  more  then  may  these  affec- 
tions, when  freed  from  every  shackle,  when  invigor- 
ated by  an  assured  possession  of  endless  life,  and 
when  heightened  by  the  immediate  vision  of  the 
supreme  excellence,  yield  a  fulness  of  joy,  consis- 
tently w^ith  many  vicissitudes  of  external  position. 
Considerations  such  as  these,  if  at  all  borne  out  by 
evidence  of  Scripture,  may  properly  have  place  in 
connection  with  the  topic  of  this  section;  for  it  is 
evident  that  the  harassing  perplexities  which  arise 
from  the  present  dispensations  of  Providence  might 
be  greatly  relieved  by  habitually  entertaining  antic- 
ipations of  the  future  state,  somewhat  less  imbecile 
and  luxurious  than  those  commonly  admitted  by 
Christians. 


SECTION  VII. 

ENTHUSIASM    OF    BENEFICENCE. 

To  say  that  the  principle  of  disinterested  benev- 
olence had  never  been  known  among  men  before 
the  publication  of  Christianity  would  be  an  exag- 
geration;— an  exaggeration  similar  to  that  of  affirm- 
ing that  the  doctrine  of  immortality  was  new  to 
mankind  when  taught  by  our  Lord.  In  truth,  the 
one  had,  in  every  age,  been  imperfectly  practised, 
and  the  other  dimly  supposed:  yet  neither  the  one 
principle  nor  the  other  existed  in  suffi^cient  strength 
to  be  the  source  of  substantial  benefit  to  mankind. 
But  Christ,  while  he  emphatically  "brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light,"  and  so  claimed  to  be  the  au- 
thor of  hope  for  man,  did  also  with  such  effect  lay 
the  hand  of  his  healing  power  upon  the  human 
heart — long  palsied  by  sensualities  and  selfishness, 
that  it  has  ever  since  shed  forth  a  fountain  of  active 
kindness,  largely  available  for  the  relief  of  want  and 
misery. 

As  a  matter  of  history,  unquestionable  and  con- 
spicuous, Christianity  has  in  every  age  fed  the  hun- 
gry, and  clothed  the  naked,  and  redeemed  the  cap- 
tive, and  visited  the  sick.     It  has  put  to  shame  the 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  157 

atrocities  of  the  ancient  popular  amusements,  and 
annihilated  sanguinary  rites,  and  brought  slavery  in- 
to disesteem  and  disuse,  and  abolished  excruciating 
punishments;  and  has  even  softened  the  ferocity  of 
war;  and,  in  a  word,  is  seen  constantly  at  work, 
edging  away  oppressions,  and  moving  on  towards 
the  perfect  triumph  which  avowedly  it  meditates — 
that  of  removing  from  the  earth  every  woe  which 
the  inconsideration,  or  the  selfishness,  or  the  malig- 
nancy of  man  inflicts  upon  his  fellows. 

It  remains  then  to  ask  by  what  special  means  has 
Christianity  effected  these  ameliorations?  and  it  will 
be  found  that  the  power  and  success  of  the  new 
principle  of  benevolence,  taught  in  the  Scriptures, 
are  not  more  remarkable  than  are  its  constitu- 
tion and  its  ingredients; — Christian  philanthropy, 
though  it  takes  up  among  its  elements  the  native 
benevolence  of  the  human  heart,  is  a  compound 
principle,  essentially  differing  from  the  spontaneous 
sympathies  of  our  nature.  Now,  as  this  new  and 
composite  benevolence  has,  by  a  trial  of  eighteen 
centuries,  and  under  every  imaginable  diversity  of 
circumstance,  proved  its  practical  efficiency,  and 
its  immense  superiority  over  the  crude  elementary 
principle  of  kindness,  it  would  be  a  violation  of  the 
acknowledged  methods  of  modern  science  to  adhere 
pertinaciously  to  the  old  and  inefficient  element, 
and  to  contemn  the  improved  principle.  All  we 
have  to  do  on  an  occasion  wherein  the  welfare  of 
our  fellows  is  so  deeply  interested,  is  to  take  care 
that  our  own  benevolence,  and  the  benevolence 
*14 


158  MOTIVES    OF 

which  we  recommend  to  others,  is  of  the  true  and 
genuine  sort — in  other  words,  that  it  is  indeed — 
Christian.  If,  as  every  one  would  profess,  we  de- 
sire to  live  not  for  selfish  pleasure,  but  to  promote 
the  happiness  of  others — if  we  would  become,  not 
idle  well-wishers  to  our  species — not  closet  philan- 
thropists, dreaming  of  impracticable  reforms,  and 
grudging  the  cost  of  effective  relief,  but  real  bene- 
factors to  mankind,  we  must  take  up  the  lessons  of 
New  Testament  philanthropy,  just  as  they  lie  on 
the  page  before  us,  and  without  imagining  simpler 
methods,  follow  humbly  in  the  track  of  experience. 
By  this  book  alone  have  men  been  effectively  taught 
to  do  good. 

A  low  rate  of  activity,  prompted  merely  by  the 
spontaneous  kindness  of  the  heart,  may  easily  take 
place  without  incurring  the  danger  of  enthusiastical 
excesses;  but  how  is  enough  of  moral  movement  to 
be  obtained  for  giving  impulse  to  a  course  of  ardu- 
ous and  perilous  labors,  such  as  the  woes  of  man- 
kind often  call  for,  and  yet  without  generating  the 
extravagances  of  a  false  excitement?  This  is  a 
problem  solved  only  by  the  Christian  scheme,  and 
in  briefly  enumerating  the  peculiarities  of  the  be- 
nevolence which  it  inspires,  we  shall  not  fail  to 
catch  a  glimpse,  at  least,  of  that  profound  skill 
which  makes  provision,  on  the  one  side  against  in- 
ertness and  selfishness,  and  on  the  other  against  en- 
thusiasm. 

The  peculiarities  of  Christian  philanthropy  are 
such  as  thesej  it  is  Vicarious;  Obligatory;  Reward- 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  159 

able;  Subordinate   lo  an  efficient  agency,  and  an 
expression  of  grateful  love. 

I.  The  great  principle  of  vicarious  suffering, 
which  forms  the  centre  of  Christianity,  spreads  itself 
through  the  subordinate  parts  of  the  system,  and  is 
the  pervading,  if  not  the  invariable  law  of  Christian 
beneficence. 

The  spontaneous  sympathies  of  human  nature, 
when  they  are  vigorous  enough  to  produce  the  fruits 
of  charity,  rest  on  an  expectation  of  an  opposite 
kind;  for  we  first  seek  to  dispel  the  uneasy  sensa- 
tion of  pity;  then  look  for  the  gratitude  of  the 
wretch  we  have  solaced,  and  for  the  approbation  of 
spectators;  and  then  take  a  sweet  after-draught  of 
self-complacency.  But  the  Christian  virtue  of  be- 
neficence takes  its  stand  altogether  on  another 
ground;  and  its  doctrine  is,  that,  whoever  would 
remedy  misery  must  himself  suffer;  and  that  the 
pains  of  the  vicarious  benefactor  are  generally  to 
bear  proportion  to  the  extent  or  malignity  of  the 
evils  he  labors  to  remove.  So  that  while  the  phi- 
lanthropist who  undertakes  the  cure  only  of  the 
transient  ills  of  the  present  life,  may  encounter  no 
greater  amount  of  toils  or  discouragements  than 
are  amply  recompensed  by  the  immediate  gratifica- 
tions of  successful  benevolence,  he  who,  with  a  due 
sense  of  the  greatness  of  the  enterprise,  devotes 
himself  to  the  removal  of  the  moral  wretchedness  in 
which  human  nature  is  involved,  will  find  that  the 
sad  quality  of  these  deeper  woes  is  in  a  manner  re- 
flected back  upon  himself;  and  that  to  touch  the 


IGO  MOTIVES    OF 

substantial  miseries  of  degenerate  man  is  to  come 
within  the  infection  of  infinite  sorrow. 

And  this  is  the  law  of  success  in  the  Christian 
ministry,  that  highest  work  of  philanthropy.  Every 
right-minded  and  heaven-commissioned  minister  of 
religion  is  "baptized  with  the  baptism  wherewith 
his  Lord  was  baptized."  In  an  inferior,  yet  a  real 
sense,  he  is,  like  his  Lord,  a  vicarious  person,  and 
has  freely  undergone  a  suretyship  for  the  immortal 
welfare  of  his  fellow-men.  He  has  charged  himself 
with  a  responsibility  that  can  never  be  absolutely 
acquitted  while  any  power  of  exertion  or  faculty 
of  endurance  is  held  back  from  the  service.  The 
interests  which  rest  in  his  hand,  and  depend  on 
his  skill  and  fidelity — depend,  as  truly  as  if  divine 
agency  had  no  part  in  the  issue — are  as  moment- 
ous as  infinity  can  make  them,  nor  are  to  be  pro- 
moted without  a  willingness  to  do  and  to  bear  the 
utmost  of  which  humanity  is  capable.  Though 
the  vicar  of  Christ  be  not  unconditionally  respon- 
sible for  the  happy  result  of  his  labors,  he  is  clearly 
bound,  both  by  the  terms  of  his  engagement  and 
the  very  quality  of  the  work,  to  surrender  what- 
ever he  may  possess  that  has  in  it  a  virtue  to  pur- 
chase success;  and  he  knows  that,  by  the  great  law 
of  the  spiritual  world,  the  suffering  of  substitutes 
enters  into  every  procedure  of  redemption. 

He  who  "took  our  sorrows  and  bore  our  griefs," 
left,  for  the  instruction  of  his  servants,  a  perfect 
model  of  what  should  ordinarily  be — a  life  of  be- 
neficence.     Every   circumstance  of   privation,   of 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHOPY.  iCl 

discouragement,  of  insult,  of  deadly  hostility,  which 
naturally  fell  in  the  way  of  a  ministry  like  his,  ex- 
ercised among  a  people,  profligate,  malignant,  and 
fanatical,  was  endured  by  him  as  submissively  as  if 
no  extraordinary  powers  of  relief  or  defence  had 
been  at  his  disposal. 

On  the  very  same  conditions  of  unmitigated  toil 
and  suffering  he  consigned  the  publication  of  his 
religion  to  his  Apostles: — "Ye  shall  be  hated  of  all 
nations  for  my  name's  sake: — Whosoever  killeth 
you  shall  think  that  he  doeth  God  service: — Be- 
hold, I  send  you  forth  as  sheep  among  wolves." 
Though  endowed  with  an  opulence  of  supernatu- 
ral powers  for  the  attestation  of  their  commission, 
the  Apostles  possessed  none  for  the  alleviation  of 
their  own  distresses — none  which  might  tend  to 
generate  a  personal  enthusiasm  by  leading  them 
to  think  that  they,  as  individuals,  were  the  darlings 
of  heaven.  And  in  fact  they  daily  found  them- 
selves, even  while  wielding  the  arm  of  omnipo- 
tence, exposed  to  the  extremest  pressures  of  want, 
to  pain,  to  destitution,  to  contempt.  "Even  unto 
this  present  hour  we  both  hunger,  and  thirst,  and 
are  naked,  and  are  buffeted,  and  have  no  certain 
dwelling  place."  Such  was  the  deplorable  lot — 
such  to  his  last  year  of  houseless  wanderings — • 
houseless  except  when  a  dungeon  was  his  home — = 
of  the  most  honored  of  heaven's  agents  on  earth. 
Such  was  the  life  of  the  most  successful  of  all  phi- 
lanthropists! 


162  MOTIVES    OF 

Nor  have  the  conditions  of  eminent  service  been 
relaxed: — the  value  of  souls  is  not  lowered;  and  as 
the  "sacrifice  once  offered"  for  the  sins  of  the  world 
remains  in  undiminished  efficacy,  so,  in  the  pro- 
cess of  diffusing  the  infinite  benefit,  the  rule  orig- 
inally established  continues  in  force;  and  although 
reasons  drawn  from  the  diversity  of  character  and 
of  natural  strength,  among  those  who  are  the  ser- 
vants of  God,  may  occasion  great  apparent  differ- 
ences in  the  amount  of  suffering  severally  endured 
by  them,  it  is  always  true  that  the  path  of  Chris- 
tian beneficence  is  more  beset  than  the  common 
walks  of  life  with  disheartening  reverses.  Who- 
ever freely  takes  up  the  cause  of  the  wretched,  is 
left  to  feel  the  whole  grievous  pressure  of  the  bur- 
den. The  frustration  of  his  plans  by  the  obstinate 
folly  of  those  whom  he  would  fain  serve — the  apa- 
thy, the  remissness,  or  the  sinister  oppositions  of 
professed  coadjutors — the  dangerous  hostility  of 
profligate  power — and  worse  than  all,  the  secret 
misgivings  of  an  exhausted  spirit;  these,  and  what- 
ever other  instruments  of  torture  Disappointment 
may  hold  in  her  hand  or  have  in  reserve,  are  the 
furniture  of  the  theatre  on  which  the  favorite  virtue 
of  heaven  is  to  pass  its  trial. 

But  this  stern  law  of  vicarious  charity  is  alto- 
gether opposed  to  the  expectations  of  inexperi- 
enced and  ardent  minds.  Among  the  few  who 
devote  themselves  zealously  to  the  service  of  man- 
kind, a  large  proportion  derive  their  activity  from 
that    constitutional    fervor   which    is    the   physical 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHOPY.  163 

cause  of  enthusiasm.  In  truth,  a  propensity  rather 
to  indulge  the  illusions  of  hope,  than  to  calculate 
probabilities,  may  seem  almost  a  necessary  qualifi- 
cation for  those  who,  in  this  world  of  abounding 
evil,  are  to  devise  the  means  of  checking  its  tri- 
umphs. To  raise  fallen  humanity  from  its  degra- 
dation— to  rescue  the  oppressed — to  deliver  the 
needy — to  save  the  lost — are  enterprises,  for  the 
most  part,  so  little  recommended  by  a  fair  promise 
of  success,  that  few  will  engage  in  them  but  those 
who,  by  a  happy  infirmity  of  the  reasoning  faculty, 
are  prone  to  hope  where  cautious  men  despond. 

Thus  furnished  for  their  work  by  a  constitutional 
contempt  of  frigid  prudence,  and  engaged  cordially 
in  services  which  seem  to  give  them  a  peculiar  in- 
terest in  the  favor  of  heaven,  it  is  only  natural  that 
benevolent  enthusiasts  should  cherish  secret,  if  not 
avowed  hopes,  of  extraordinary  aids  and  interposi- 
tions, of  a  kind  not  compatible  with  the  constitution 
of  the  present  state,  and  not  warranted  by  promise 
of  Scripture.  Or  if  the  kind-hearted  visionary  does 
not  ask  or  expect  a  peculiar  protection  of  his  per- 
son, or  an  exemption  from  the  common  hazards  and 
ills  of  life,  yet  he  clings  with  fond  pertinacity  to 
the  hope  of  a  semi-miraculous  interference  on  those 
occasions  in  which  the  work,  rather  than  the  agent, 
is  in  peril.  Even  the  genuineness  of  his  benevo- 
lence leads  the  amiable  enthusiast  into  this  error. 
To  achieve  the  good  he  has  designed  does  indeed 
occupy  all  his  heart,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  self- 
ish thought: — what  price  of  personal  suffering  would 


164  MOTIVES    OF 

he  not  pay,  might  he  so  purchase  the  needed  mira- 
cle of  help!  How  piercing  then  is  the  anguish  of 
his  soul  when  that  help  is  withheld;  when  his  fair 
hopes  and  fair  designs  are  overthrown  by  hostility 
that  might  have  been  restrained,  or  by  a  casualty 
that  might  have  been  diverted! 

Few,  perhaps,  who  suffer  chagrins  like  this,  alto- 
gether avoid  a  relapse  into  religious — we  ought  to 
say  irreligious,  despondency.  The  first  fault — that 
of  misunderstanding  the  unalterable  rules  of  the 
divine  government,  is  followed  by  a  worse — that  of 
fretting  against  them.  When  the  sharpness  of  dis- 
appointment disperses  enthusiasm,  the  whole  moral 
constitution  often  becomes  infected  with  the  gall 
of  discontent.  Querulous  regrets  take  place  of 
active  zeal;  and  at  length  vexation,  much  more  than 
a  real  exhaustion  of  strength,  renders  the  once  labo- 
rious philanthropist  "weary  in  well-doing." 

And  yet,  not  seldom,  a  happy  renovation  of  mo- 
tives takes  place  in  consequence  of  the  failures  to 
which  the  enthusiast  has  exposed  himself.  Benev- 
olent enterprises  were  commenced,  perhaps  in  all 
the  fervor  of  exorbitant  hopes; — the  course  of  na- 
ture was  to  be  diverted — a  new  order  of  things  to 
take  place,  in  which,  what  human  efforts  failed  to 
accomplish,  should  be  achieved  by  the  ready  aid 
of  heaven.  But  disappointment — as  merciless  to 
the  venial  errors  of  the  good,  as  to  the  michievous 
plots  of  the  wicked,  scatters  the  project  in  a  mo- 
ment.    Then  the  selfish  and  the  inert,  exult;  and 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  165 

the  half-wise  pick  up  fragments  from  the  desola- 
tion, wherewith  to  patch  their  favorite  maxims  of 
frigid  prudence  with  new  proofs   in  point!     Mean- 
while, by  grace  given  from  above  in  the  hour  of 
despondency,  the  enthusiast  gains  a  portion  of  true 
wisdom  from  defeat.    Though  robbed  of  his  fondly- 
cherished  hopes,  he  is  not   stripped  of  his  sympa- 
thies, and  these  soon  prompt  him  to  begin  anew 
his  labors,  on  principles  of  a  more  substantial  sort. 
Warned  not  to  expect  miraculous  or  extraordinary 
aids  to  supply  the  want  of  caution,  he  consults  pru- 
dence with  even  a  religious  scrupulosity;    for   he 
has  learned  to  think  her  voice,  if  not  misunder- 
stood, to  be  in  fact  the  voice  of  God.     And  now  he 
avenges  himself  upon  Disappointment,  by  abstain- 
ing almost  from   hope.     A  sense  of  responsibility 
which   quells  physical   excitement   is  his  strength. 
He  relies  indeed  upon  the   divine  aid,   yet  not  for 
extraordinary   interpositions,    but   for  grace   to    be 
faithful.     Thus  better  furnished  for  arduous  exer- 
tion, a  degree  of  substantial  success  is  granted  to 
his  renewed  toils  and   prayers.     And  while  the  in- 
dolent, and  the  over-cautious,  and  the  cold-hearted, 
remain  what  they  were;  or  have  become  more  in- 
ert, more  timid,  and  more  selfish  than  before,  the 
subject  of  their  self-complacent  pity  has    not  only 
accomplished  some  important  service  for  mankind, 
but  has  himself  acquired  a  temper  which  fits  him 
to  take  high  rank  among  the  thrones  and  dominions 
of  the  upper  world. 
15 


1G6  MOTIVES    OF 

II.     Christian  philanthropy  is  obligatory. 

Natural  benevolence  is  prone  to  claim  the  liberty 
and  the  merit  that  belong  to  pure  spontaneity,  and 
spurns  the  idea  of  duty  or  necessity.  This  claim 
might  be  allowed  if  the  free  emotions  of  kindness 
were  sufficiently  common,  and  sufficiently  vigor- 
ous, to  meet  the  large  and  constant  demands  of 
want  and  misery.  But  the  contrary  is  the  fact; 
and  if  it  were  not  that  an  authoritative  requisition, 
backed  by  the  most  solemn  sanctions,  laid  its  hand 
upon  the  sources  of  eleemosynary  aid,  the  revenues 
of  mercy  would  be  slender  indeed.  Even  the  few  who 
act  from  the  impulse  of  the  noblest  motives,  are  urged 
on  and  sustained  in  their  course  of  beneficence  by  a 
latent  recollection  that,  though  they  move  freely  in 
advancing,  they  have  no  real  liberty  to  draw  back. 
If  the  entire  amount  of  advantage  which  has  ac- 
crued to  the  necessitous  from  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity could  be  computed,  it  would,  no  doubt,  be 
found,  that  by  far  the  larger  share  has  been  con- 
tributed— not  by  the  few  who  might  have  done  the 
same  without  impulsion;  but  by  the  many,  whose 
selfishness  could  never  have  been  broken  up  ex- 
cept by  the  most  imperative  appeals.  To  insure, 
therefore,  its  large  purpose  of  good-will  to  man,  the 
law  of  Christ  spreads  out  its  claims  very  far  be- 
yond the  circle  of  mere  pity,  or  natural  kindness; 
and  in  absolute  and  peremptory  terms  demands  for 
the  use  of  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  the  wretched — 
and  demands  from  every  one  who  names  the  name 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  167 

of  Christ,  the  whole  residue  of  talent,  wealth,  time, 
that  may  remain  after  primary  claims  have  been 
satisfied.  On  this  ground,  when  the  zeal  of  self- 
denying  benevolence  has  laid  down  its  last  mite, 
it  does  not  deem  itself  to  have  exceeded  the  extent 
of  Christian  duty;  but  cheerfully  assents  to  that  rule 
of  computing  service  which  affirms  that  "we,  when 
we  have  done  all,  are  unprofitable  servants;  having 
performed  only  what  we  were  commanded." 

Manifestly  for  the  purpose  of  giving  the  highest 
possible  force  and  solemnity  to  that  sense  of  obli- 
gation which  impels  the  Christian  to  abound  in 
every  good  work,  the  ostensible  proof  of  religious 
sincerity,  to  be  adduced  in  the  momentous  proceed- 
ures  of  the  last  judgment,  is  made  to  consist  in 
the  fact  of  a  life  of  beneficence.  Those,  and  those 
only,  shall  inherit  the  prepared  blessedness,  who 
shall  be  found  to  have  nourished,  and  clothed,  and 
visited  the  Lord  in  his  representatives — the  poor. 
The  "cursed"  are  those  who  have  grudged  the  cost 
of  mercy. 

And  it  is  not  only  true  that  the  funds  of  charity 
have  been,  in  every  age,  immensely  augmented  by 
these  strong  representations,  and  have  far  exceeded 
the  amount  which  spontaneous  compassion  would 
ever  have  contributed,  but  the  very  character  oi 
beneficence  has  been  new  modelled  by  them.  In 
the  mind  of  every  well-instructed  Christian,  a  feel- 
ing compounded  of  a  solemn  sense  of  inadequate 
performance,  repugnates  and  subdues  those  self- 
gratulations,   those    giddy  deliriums,  and   that  vain 


168  MOTIVES    OF 

ambition  which  beset  a  course  of  active  and  success- 
ful beneficence.  This  remarkable  arrangement  of 
the  Christian  ethics,  by  which  the  largest  possible 
contributions  and  the  utmost  possible  exertions  are 
demanded  in  a  tone  of  comprehensive  authority, 
seems — besides  its  other  uses,  particularly  intended 
to  quash  the  natural  enthusiasm  of  active  zeal.  It 
is  a  strong  antagonist  principle  in  the  mechanism 
of  motives,  insuring  an  equilibrium,  however  great 
may  be  the  intensity  of  action.  We  are  thus  taught 
that,  as  there  can  be  no  supererogation  in  works 
of  mercy,  so  neither  can  there  be  exultation.  Noth- 
ing, it  is  manifest,  but  humility,  becomes  a  servant 
who  barely  acquits  his  duty. 

Let  it,  for  example,  have  been  given  to  a  man  to 
receive  superior  mental  endowments — force  of  un- 
derstanding, solidity  of  judgment,  and  richness  of 
imagination,  command  of  language,  and  graces  of 
utterance; — a  soul  fraught  with  expansive  kindness, 
and  not  more  kind  than  courageous; — and  let  him, 
thus  furnished  by  nature,  have  enjoyed  the  advan- 
tages of  rank,  and  wealth,  and  secular  influence; 
and  let  it  have  been  his  lot,  in  the  prime  of  life, 
to  be  stationed  just  on  the  fortunate  centre  of 
peculiar  opportunities:  and  then  let  it  have  hap- 
pened that  a  fourth  part  of  the  human  family — cru- 
elly maltreated,  stood  as  clients  at  his  door,  im- 
ploring help:  and  let  him,  in  the  very  teeth  of 
ferocious  selfishness,  have  achieved  deliverance  for 
these  suffering  millions,  and  have  given  a  deadly 
blow  to  the  Moloch  of  blood  and  rapacity:  and  let 


CHRISTIAN   PHILANTHROPY.  169 

him  have  been  lifted  to  the  heavens  on  the  loud 
acclamations  of  all  civilized  nations,  and  blessed 
amid  the  sighs  and  joys  of  the  ransomed  poor,  and 
his  name  diffused,  like  a  charm,  through  every  bar- 
barous dialect  of  a  continent: — Let  all  this  signal 
felicity  have  belonged  to  the  lot  of  a  Christian — a 
Christian  well  taught  in  the  principles  of  his  re- 
ligion; nevertheless,  in  the  midst  of  his  honest  joy, 
he  will  find  place  rather  for  humiliation  than  for 
that  vain  excitement  and  exultation  wherewith  a 
man  of  merely  natural  benevolence  would  not  fail, 
in  like  circumstances,  to  be  intoxicated.  AVithout 
at  all  allowing  the  exaggerations  of  an  affected 
humility,  the  triumphant  philanthropist  confesses 
that  he  is  nothing;  and  far  from  deeming  himself  to 
have  surpassed  the  requirements  of  the  law  of 
Christ,  feels  that  he  has  done  less  than  his  duty. 

Christian  philanthropy,  thus  broadly  and  solidly 
based  on  a  sense  of  unlimited  obligation,  acquires 
a  character  essentially  differing  from  that  of  spon- 
taneous kindness;  and  while,  as  a  source  of  relief 
to  the  wretched,  it  is  rendered  immensely  more 
copious,  is,  at  the  same  time,  secured  against  the 
flatteries  of  self-love,  and  the  excesses  of  enthusi- 
asm, by  the  solemn  sanctions  of  an  unbounded 
responsibility. 

III.     A  nice  balancing  of  motives    is  obtained 

from  an  opposite  quarter  in  the  Christian  doctrine 

of  the  rewardableness  of  works  of  mercy.      This 

doctrine,  than  which  no  article  of  religion  stands 

*15 


170  MOTIVES    OF 

out  more  prominently  on  the  surface  of  the  New 
Testament,  having  been  early  abused,  to  the  hurt 
of  the  fundamentals  of  piety,  has,  in  the  modern 
Church,  been  almost  lost  sight  of  and  disused,  or 
become  liable  to  obloquy;  so  that  to  insist  upon  it 
plainly  has  incurred  a  charge  of  Pelagianism,  or 
of  Romanism,  or  of  some  such  error.  This  misun- 
derstanding must  be  dispelled  before  Christian  phi- 
lanthropy can  revive  in  full  force. 

Amidst  the  awful  reserve  which  envelopes  the 
announcement  of  a  future  life  by  our  Lord  and  his 
ministers,  three  ideas,  continually  recurring,  are  to 
be  gathered    with   sufficient  clearness   from   their 
hasty  allusions.      The  First  is,  that  the  future  life 
will  be  the  fruit  of  the  present,  as  if  by  a  natural 
sequence  of  cause  and  effect. — "Whatsoever  a  man 
sows,  that  shall  he  also  reap."     The  Second  is,  that 
the  future  harvest,  though  of  like  species  and  qual- 
ity with  the  seed,  will  be  immensely  disproportioned 
to  it  in  amount. — "The  things  seen  are  temporal;  but 
the  things  unseen  are  eternal;"  and  the  sufferings 
of  the  present  time  are  to   be  followed  by  "a  far 
more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory;"  and 
those  who  have  been   "faithful  over  a  few  things, 
will  have  rule  over  many."       The    Third  is,  that, 
though  the  disparity  between  the  present  reward 
and  the  future  recompense  will  be  vast  and  incal- 
culable, yet  will  there   obtain  a  most  exact  rule  of 
correspondence  between  the  one  and  the  other,  so 
that  from  the  hands  of  the  "righteous  Judge"  every 
man  will  receive  "severally  according  as  his  work 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  171 

has  been."  Nor  shall  even  "a  cup  of  cold  water," 
given  in  Christian  love,  be  omitted  in  that  accurate 
account; — but  the  giver  shall  "by  no  means  lose  his 

Such  are  the  explicit  and  intelligible  engage- 
ments of  Him  vi'hose  commands  are  never  far  sep- 
arated from  his  promises.  It  cannot  then  be  deem- 
ed a  becoming  part  of  Christian  temper  to  indulge 
a  scrupulous  hesitancy  in  accepting  and  in  acting 
upon  the  faith  of  these  declarations.  And  as  there 
is  no  incompatibility  or  clashing  of  motives  in  the 
Christian  system,  any  delicacy  that  may  be  felt, 
as  if  the  hope  of  reward  might  interfere  with  a  due 
sense  of  obligation  to  sovereign  grace,  must  spring 
from  an  obscure  and  faulty  perception  of  scriptural 
doctrines.  The  intelligent  Christian,  on  the  con- 
trary, when,  in  simplicity  of  heart,  he  calculates 
upon  the  promises  of  Heaven;  and  when,  with  a 
distinct  reckoning  of  the  "great  gain"  of  such  an 
investment,  he  "lays  up  for  himself  treasures  that 
cannot  fail;"  is,  at  the  same  time,  taught  and  im- 
pelled by  the  strongest  emotions  of  the  heart,  to 
connect  his  hope  of  recompense  with  his  hope  of 
pardon.  And  when  the  one  class  of  ideas  is  thus 
linked  to  the  other,  he  perceives  that  the  enconomy 
which  establishes  a  system  of  rewards  for  present 
services  can  be  nothing  else  than  an  arbitrary  ar- 
rangement of  sovereign  goodness,  resolving  alto- 
gether itself  into  the  grace  of  the  mediatorial 
scheme.  The  retribution,  how  accurately  soever 
it  may  be  measured   out   according  to  the  work 


172  MOTIVES    OP 

performed,  must,  in  its  whole  amount,  be  still  a 
pure  gratuity; — not  less  so  than  is  the  gift  of  im- 
mortal life  conferred  without  probation  upon  the 
aborigines  of  heaven.  The  zealous  and  faithful  ser- 
vant who  enters  upon  his  reward  after  a  long  term 
of  labors,  and  the  infant  of  a  day,  who  flits  at  once 
from  the  womb  to  the  skies,  alike  receive  the  boon 
of  endless  bliss  in  virtue  of  their  relationship  to  the 
second  Adam — "the  Lord  from  heaven."  Never- 
theless this  boon  shall  conspicuously  appear,  in 
the  one  case,  to  be  the  apportioned  wages  of  ser- 
vice— an  exact  recompense,  measured,  and  weigh- 
ed, and  doled  out  in  due  discharge  of  an  explicit 
engagement;  while  in  the  other,  it  can  be  nothing 
but  a  sovereign  bestowment. 

But  it  is  manifest  that  this  doctrine  of  future  re- 
compense, when  held  in  connection  with  the  funda- 
mental principle  of  Christianity — ^justification  by 
faith,  tends  directly  to  allay  and  disperse  those  ex- 
citements which  naturally  spring  up  with  the  zeal  of 
active  benevolence.  The  series  or  order  of  senti- 
ments is  this: — 

The  Christian  philanthropist,  if  well  instructed, 
dares  not  affect  indifference  to  the  promised  reward, 
or  pretend  to  be  more  disinterested  than  Apostles, 
who  labored,  "knowing  that  in  due  time  they  should 
reap."  He  cannot  think  himself  free  to  overlook  a 
motive  which  is  distinctly  held  out  before  him  in 
the  Scriptures:— to  do  so  were  an  impious  arrogance. 
And  yet,  if  he  accepts  the  promise  of  recompense, 
and  takes  it  up  as  an  inducement  to  diligence,  he  is 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  173 

compelled  by  a  sense  of  the  manifold  imperfections 
of  his  services  to  fall  back  upon  the  divine  mercies 
as  they  are  assured  to  transgressors  in  Christ.  These 
humbling  sentiments  refuse  to  cohere  with  the  com- 
placencies of  a  selfish  and  vain-glorious  philanthro- 
py, and  necessitate  a  subdued  tone  of  feeling.  Thus 
the  very  height  and  expansion  of  the  Christian's 
hopes  send  the  root  of  humility  deep  and  wide;  the 
more  his  bosom  heaves  with  the  hope  of  "the  ex- 
ceeding great  reward,"  the  more  is  it  quelled  by  the 
consciousness  of  demerit.  The  counterpoise  of  op- 
posing sentiments  is  so  managed,  that  elevation  can- 
not take  place  on  the  one  side  without  an  equal  de- 
pression on  the  other;  and  by  the  counteraction  of 
antagonist  principles  the  emotions  of  zeal  may  reach 
the  highest  possible  point,  while  full  provision  is 
made  for  correcting  the  vertigo  of  enthusiasm. 

If,  in  the  early  ages  of  the  Church,  the  expecta- 
tion of  future  reward  was  abused  to  the  damage  of 
fundamental  principles,  in  modern  times,  an  ill-judg- 
ed zeal  for  the  integrity  of  those  principles,  has  pro- 
duced an  almost  avowed  jealousy  towards  many  ex- 
plicit declarations  of  Scripture:  thus  the  nerves  of 
labor  are  either  relaxed  by  the  withdrawment  of 
proper  stimulants,  or  absolutely  severed  by  the  bold 
hand  of  antinomian  delusion. 

Moreover — a  course  of  Christian  beneficence  is 
one  peculiarly  exposed  to  reverses,  to  obstructions, 
and  often  to  active  hostility;  and  if  the  zeal  of  the 
philanthropist  be  in  any  considerable  degree  alloyed 
with  the  sinister   motives  of  personal  vanity,  or  be 


174  MOTIVES    OF 

inflamed  with  enthusiasm,  these  reverses  produce 
despondency;  or  opposition  and  hostility  kindle  cor- 
rupt zeal  into  fanatical  violence.  The  injection  of  a 
chemical  test  does  not  more  surely  bring  out  the 
element  with  which  it  has  affinity,  than  does  opposi- 
tion, in  an  attempt  to  do  good,  make  conspicuous 
the  presence  of  unsound  motives,  if  any  such  have 
existed.  Has  it  not  happened  that  when  benevo- 
lent enterprises  have  consisted  in  a  direct  attack 
upon  systems  of  cruel  or  fraudulent  oppression,  the 
quality  of  the  zeal  that  has  actuated  many  in  lend- 
ing their  clamors,  to  the  champions  of  humanity, 
has  become  manifest  when  the  issue  seemed  doubt- 
ful, or  when  the  machinations  of  diabolical  knavery 
gained  a  triumph?  Then,  too  often,  the  partisans  of 
truth  and  mercy,  forgetful  of  their  principles,  have 
broke  out  almost  into  the  violence  of  political  fac- 
tion, and  hardly  scrupled  to  employ  the  dark  meth- 
ods which  faction  loves. 

But  there  is  a  delicacy,  a  reserve,  a  sobriety,  a 
humbleness  of  heart,  belonging  to  the  hope  of  heav- 
enly recompense,  which  powerfully  repels  the  ma- 
lign emotions.  Who  can  imagine  the  circumstances 
and  feelings  of  the  great  day  of  final  reward,  and 
think  of  hearing  the  approving  voice  of  Him  who 
"searches  the  heart,"  and  at  the  same  time  be  told 
by  conscience  that  the  zeal  which  gives  life  to  his 
labors  in  the  cause  of  the  oppressed  ferments  with 
the  gall  and  acrimony  of  worldly  animosity — that 
this  zeal  prompts  him  to  indulge  in  exaggerations,  if 
not  to  propagate  calumnies;  and  exults  much  more 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  175 

in  the  overthrow  of  the  oppressor,  than  in  the  re- 
demption of  the  captive?  If  the  greatness  of  the 
future  reward  proves  that  it  must  be  altogether  "of 
grace,  not  of  debt,"  then  unquestionably,  must  it 
demand  in  the  recipient  a  temper  purified  from  the 
leaven  of  malice  and  hatred.  Thus  does  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine  of  future  reward  correct  the  evil  pas- 
sions incident  to  a  course  of  benevolence. 

IV.  Christian  beneficence  is  the  subordinate 
instrument  of  a  higher  and  efficient  agency.  "Nei- 
ther is  he  that  planteth  any  thing,  nor  he  that  vvater- 
eth;  but  God  that  giveth  the  increase."  Such,  on 
the  scriptural  plan,  are  the  conditions  of  all  labor, 
undertaken  from  the  motives  of  religious  benevo- 
lence. But  the  besetting  sin  of  natural  benevo- 
lence is  self-complacency  and  presumption.  It  is 
perhaps  as  hard  to  find  sanctimoniousness  apart 
from  hypocrisy,  or  bashfulness  v/ithout  pride,  as  to 
meet  with  active  and  enterprising  philanthropy  not 
tainted  by  the  spirit  of  overweening  vanity.  The 
kind-hearted  schemer,  fertile  in  devices  for  beguil- 
ing mankind  into  virtue,  and  rich  in  petty  ingenui- 
ties— always  well-intended,  and  seldom  well-imagin- 
ed, verily  believes  that  his  machineries  of  instruc- 
tion or  reform  require  only  to  be  put  fairly  in  play, 
and  they  will  bring  heaven  upon  earth. 

But  Christianity,  if  it  does  not  sternly  frown  upon 
these  novelties,  does  not  encourage  them;  and  while 
it  depicts  the  evils  that  destroy  the  happiness  of 
man  as  of  much  more  deep  and  inveterate  maligni- 
ty than   that  they  should  be   remedied   by  this  or 


176  MOTIVES    OF 

that  specious  method,  devised  yesterday,  tried  to- 
day, and  abandoned  to-morrow,  most  explicitly  con- 
fines the  hope  of  success  to  those  who  possess  the 
temper  of  mind  which  is  proper  to  a  dependant  and 
subordinate  agent.  All  presumptuous  confidence 
in  the  efficiency  of  second  causes  is  utterly  repug- 
nant to  the  spirit  that  should  actuate  a  Christian 
philanthropist;  and  the  more  so  when  the  good 
which  he  strives  to  achieve  is  of  the  highest  kind. 

v.  Lastly,  Christian  beneficence  is  an  expres- 
sion of  grateful  love.  The  importance  attributed 
throughout  the  New  Testament  to  active  charity  is 
not  more  remarkable  than  is  this  peculiarity  which 
merges  the  natural  and  spontaneous  sentiments  of 
good-will  and  compassion  towards  our  fellows  in  an 
emotion  of  a  deeper  kind,  and  virtually  denies  merit 
and  genuineness  to  every  feeling,  how  amiable  so- 
ever it  may  appear,  if  it  does  not  thus  fall  into  sub- 
ordination to  that  devout  affection  which  we  owe  to 
Him  who  redeemed  us  by  his  sufferings  and  death. 
The  reasons  of  this  remarkable  constitution  of  mo- 
tives it  is  not  impossible  to  perceive.  For,  in  the 
first  place,  it  is  evident  that  the  love  of  the  Supreme 
Being  cannot  exist  in  the  heart  at  all  otherwise  than 
as  a  dominant  sentiment,  drawing  every  other  affec- 
tion into  its  wake.  Even  the  softest  and  purest  ten- 
derness of  our  nature  must  yield  precedence  to  the 
higher  attachment  of  the  soul; — he  who  does  not 
love  Christ  more  than  father  and  mother,  wife  and 
children,  loves  him  not.     Much  more  then  must  the 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  177 

sentiments  of  general  benevolence  own  the  same 
subordination.  Again;  as  the  promise  of  future 
recompense,  and  the  doctrine  of  dependence  upon 
divine  agency,  elevate  the  motives  of  benevolence 
from  the  level  of  earth  to  that  of  heaven,  they  would 
assume  a  character  of  dry  and  visionary  abstraction, 
unless  animated  by  an  emotion  of  love  belonging  to 
the  same  sphere.  Zeal  without  love  were  a  prepos- 
terous and  dangerous  passion:  but  Christian  zeal 
must  be  warmed  by  no  other  love  than  that  of  Him 
who,  "for  our  sakes  became  poor,  that  we  through 
his  poverty  might  be  made  rich." 

ft  has  already  been  said  that  religious  enthusiasm 
takes  its  commencement  from  the  point  where  the 
emotions  of  the  heart  are  transmuted  into  mere 
pleasures  of  the  imagination,  and  assuredly  the  ex- 
citements incident  to  a  course  of  beneficence  are 
very  fit  to  furnish  occasions  to  such  a  transmutation. 
But  the  capital  motive  of  grateful  affection  to  Him 
who  has  redeemed  us  from  sin  and  sorrow,  prevents, 
so  far  as  it  is  in  active  operation,  this  deadening  of 
the  heart,  and  consequent  quickening  of  the  imag- 
ination. The  poor  and  the  wretched  are  the  Lord's 
representatives  on  earth;  and  in  doing  them  good  we 
cherish  and  express  feelings  which  otherwise  must 
lie  latent,  or  become  vague,  seeing  that  He  to  whom 
they  relate  is  remote  from  our  senses. 

This  motive  of  affection  to  the  Lord  makes  pro- 
vision, moreover,  against  the  despondencies  that  at- 
tend a  want  of  success:  for  though  a  servant  of 
16 


178  MOTIVES    OF 

Christ  may,  to  his  life's  end,  labor  in  vain — though 
the  objects  of  his  disinterested  kindness  should 
"turn  and  rend  him;"  yet  has  he,  not  the  less,  ap- 
proved his  loyalty  and  love — approved  it  even  more 
conspicuously  than  those  can  have  done  whose 
labors  are  continually  cheered  and  rewarded  by 
prosperous  results.  Affection,  in  such  cases,  has 
sustained  the  trial,  not  merely  of  toil,  but  of  fruitless 
toil,  than  which  none  can  be  more  severe  to  a  zealous 
and  devoted  heart. 

It  appears  then  that  Christian  benevolence  con- 
tains within  itself  such  a  balancing  of  motives,  as 
leaves  room  for  the  utmost  imaginable  enhancements 
of  zeal  without  hazard  of  extravagance.  In  truth, 
it  is  easy  to  perceive  that  the  religion  of  the  Bible 
has  in  reserve  a  spring  of  movement — a  store  of  in- 
trinsic vigor,  ready  to  be  developed  in  a  manner 
greatly  surpassing  what  has  hitherto  been  seen. 
Such  a  day  of  development  shall  ere  long  arrive, 
the  time  of  the  triumph  of  divine  principles  shall 
come,  and  a  style  of  true  heroism  be  displayed,  of 
which  the  seeds  have  been  long  sown,  of  which 
some  samples  have  already  been  furnished,  and 
which  waits  only  the  promised  refreshment  from 
above  to  appear,  not  in  rare  instances  only,  but  as 
the  common  produce  of  Christianity. 

In  the  present  state  of  the  world  and  of  the 
Church,  when  communications  are  so  instantaneous, 
and  when  attention  is  so  much  alive  to  whatever 


CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY.  179 

concerns  the  welfare  of  mankind,  if  it  might  be 
imagined  that  a  great  and  sudden  extension  of 
Christianity  should  take  place  in  the  regions  of  super- 
stition and  polytheism;  and  that  yet  no  correspond- 
ing improvement  of  piety,  no  purifying,  no  refresh- 
ment, no  enhancement  of  motives,  should  occur  in 
the  home  of  Christianity,  there  is  reason  to  believe 
that  the  influx  of  excitement  might  generate  a  blaze 
of  destructive  enthusiasm.  If  every  day  had  its 
tidings  of  wonder — the  fall  of  popery  in  the  neigh- 
boring nations — the  abandonment  of  the  Mahome- 
tan delusion  by  people  after  people  in  Asia — the 
rejection  of  idols  by  China  and  India;  and  if  these 
surprising  changes,  instead  of  producing  the  cordial 
joy  of  gladdened  faith,  were  gazed  at  merely  with 
an  unholy  and  prurient  curiosity,  and  were  thunder- 
ed forth  from  platforms  by  heartless  declaimers,  and 
were  grasped  at  by  visionary  interpreters  of  futur- 
ity; then,  from  so  much  agitation,  unconnected  by 
a  proportionate  increase  of  genuine  piety,  new  pro- 
digies of  error  would  presently  start  up,  new  sects 
break  away  from  the  body,  new  hatreds  be  kindled; 
and  nothing  scarcely  be  left  of  Christianity  but  vis- 
ionary dogmas,  and  fierce  contentions.  Thus  the 
cradle  of  religion  in  modern  times  would  become 
its  grave. 

But  a  far  happier  anticipation  may  with  reason 
be  indulged;  for  it  may  well  be  believed  that  the 
same  Benignant  Influence,  which  is  to  remove  the 
covering  of  gross  ignorance  from  the  nations,  shall, 


180  CHRISTIAN    PHILANTHROPY. 

at  the  same  moment,  scatter  the  dimness  that  still 
hovers  over  the  Church  in  its  most  favored  home; — 
then,  and  under  that  influence,  the  fervors  of  Chris- 
tian zeal  may  reach  the  height  even  of  a  seraphic 
energy,  without  enthusiasm. 


SECTION  VIII. 

SKETCH    OF    THE    ENTHUSIASM    OF    THE     ANCIENT 
CHURCH. 

An  intelligent  Christian,  fraught  with  scriptural 
principles  in  their  simplicity  and  purity,  but  hither- 
to uninformed  of  Church  history,  who  should  peruse 
discursively  the  ecclesiastical  writers  of  the  age  of 
Jerom,  Ambrose,  and  Gregory  Nyssen,  would  pres- 
ently recoil  with  an  emotion  of  disappointment,  per- 
plexity, and  alarm.  That  within  a  period  which  does 
not  exceed  the  stretch  of  oral  tradition,  the  religion 
of  the  Apostles  should  have  so  much  changed  its 
character,  and  so  much  have  lost  its  beauty,  he  could 
not  have  supposed  possible.  He  has  heard  of  the 
corruptions  of  popery,  and  of  the  enormous  abuses 
prevalent  in  "the  dark  ages;"  and  he  has  been  told 
too,  by  those  who  had  an  argument  to  prop,  that  the 
era  of  the  secular  prosperity  of  the  church  was  that 
also  of  the  corruption  of  religion.  But  he  finds  in 
fact  that  there  is  scarcely  an  error  of  doctrine,  or  an 
absurdity  of  practice,  ordinarily  attributed  to  the 
Popes  and  councils  of  later  times,  and  commonly  in- 
cluded in  the  indictment  against  Rome,  which  may 
*1G 


162  ENTHUSIASM 

not,  in  its  elements,  or  even  in  a  developed  form,  be 
traced  to  the  writings  of  those  whose  ancestors,  at 
the  fourth  remove  only,  were  the  hearers  of  Paul 
and  John. 

But  after  the  first  shock  of  such  an  unprepared  pe- 
rusal of  the  Fathers  has  passed, and  when  calm  reflec- 
tion has  returned,  and  especially  when,  by  taking  up 
these  early  writers  from  the  commencement,  the  pro- 
gression of  decay  and  perversion  has  been  gradually 
and  distinctly  contemplated,  then,  though  the  disap- 
pointment will  in  great  part  remain,  the  appalling 
surmises  at  first  engendered  in  the  modern  reader's 
mind,  will  be  dispelled,  and  he  will  even  be  able  to 
pursue  his  course  of  reading  with  pleasure,  and  to  de- 
rive from  it  much  solid  instruction. — Considerations 
such  as  the  following  will  naturally  present  them- 
selves to  him  in  mitigation  of  his  first  impressions. 

While  contemplating  in  their  infant  state  those  no- 
tions and  practices — of  the  third  century,  for  exam- 
ple which  afterwards  swelled  into  enormous  evils,  it  is 
difficult  not  to  view  them  as  if  loaded  with  the  blame 
of  their  after  issues;  and  then  it  is  hard  not  to  at- 
tribute to  their  originators  and  promoters  the  accu- 
mulated criminality  that  should  be  shared  in  small 
portions  by  the  men  of  many  following  generations. 
But  the  individuals  thus  unfairly  dealt  by,  far  from 
forecasting  the  consequences  of  the  sentiments  and 
usages  they  favored — far  from  viewing  them,  as  we 
do,  darkened  by  the  clouds  of  mischiefs  heaped 
upon  them  in  after  times,  saw  the  same  objects 
bright  and  fair  in  the  recommendatory  gleam  of  a 


OF    THE    ANCIENT    CHURCH.  183 

pure  and  a  venerated  age.  The  very  abuses  which 
make  the  twelfth  century  abhorrent  on  the  page  of 
history,  were,  in  the  fourth,  fragrant  with  the  prac- 
tice and  suffrage  of  a  blessed  company  of  primitive 
confessors.  The  remembered  saints,  who  had  given 
their  bodies  to  the  flames,  had  also  lent  their  voice 
and  example  to  those  unwise  excesses  which  at 
length  drove  true  religion  from  the  earth.  Untaught 
by  experience,  the  ancient  church  surmised  not  af 
the  occult  tendencies  of  the  course  it  pursued,  nor 
should  it  be  loaded  with  consequences  which  human 
sagacity  could  not  well  have  foreseen.* 

Again. — Human  nature,  which  is  far  more  uni- 
form than  may  be  imagined,  when  suddenly  it  is 
beheld  under  some  new  aspect  of  time  and  country, 
is  also  liable  to  much  greater  diversities  than  those 
can  believe  who  have  seen  it  on  no  side  but  one. 
This  double  lesson,  taught  by  history  and  travel, 
should  be  well  learned  by  every  one  who  undertakes 


*  Each  of  the  great  corruptions  of  later  ages  took  its  rise  in  the  first, 
second,  or  third  century,  in  a  manner  which  it  would  be  harsh  to  say  was 
deserving-  of  strong  reprehension.  Thus  the  secular  domination  exercis- 
ed by  the  bishops,  and  at  length  exclusively  by  the  bishop  of  Rome,  may 
be  traced  very  distinctly  to  the  proper  respect  paid  by  the  people  to  the 
disinterested  wisdom  of  their  bishops  in  deciding  their  worldly  differences. 
— The  worship  of  images,  the  invocation  of  saints,  and  the  superstition  of 
relics,  were  but  expansions  of  the  natural  feelings  of  veneration  and  affec- 
tion cherished  towards  the  memory  of  those  who  had  suffered  and  died 
for  the  truth — And  thus,  in  like  manner,  the  errors  and  abuses  of  monkery 
all  sprang  by  imperceptible  augmentations  from  sentiments  perfectly  nat- 
ural to  the  sincere  and  devout  Christian  in  times  of  persecution,  disorder, 
and  general  corruption  of  morals. 


184  ENTHUSIASM 

to  estimate  the  merits  of  those  that   have  lived  in 
remote  times,  and  under  other  skies. 

This  caution  against  narrow  prejudices  is  obvious- 
ly more  needful  in  relation  to  the  persons  and  prac- 
tices of  ancient  Christianity,  than  when  common 
history  is  the  subject  of  inquiry;  for  in  whatever 
relates  to  religion,  every  one  carries  with  him  not 
merely  the  ordinary  prepossessions  of  time  and 
country,  but  an  unbending  standard  of  conduct  and 
temper,  which  he  is  forward  to  compare  in  his  par- 
ticular manner  with  whatever  offends  his  notions  of 
right.  But  though  the  rule  of  Scripture  morals  is 
unchangeable,  and  must  be  applied  with  uncom- 
promising impartiality  to  human  nature  under  every 
variety  of  circumstance,  yet  is  it  impracticable,  at 
the  distance  of  upwards  of  a  thousand  years,  so  fully 
to  calculate  those  circumstances,  and  so  to  perceive 
the  motives  of  conduct,  as  is  necessary  for  estima- 
ting fairly  the  innocence  or  the  criminality  of  par- 
ticular actions,  or  habits  of  life.  The  question  of 
abstract  fitness,  and  that  of  personal  blame-worthi- 
ness, should  ever  be  kept  apart:  at  least  they  should 
be  kept  apart  when  it  is  asked — and  we  are  often 
tempted  to  ask  it  in  the  perusal  of  Church  history 
— "May  such  men  be  deemed  Christians,  who  acted 
and  wrote  thus  and  thus.'"'  Before  a  doubt  of  this 
kind  could  be  solved  satisfactorily,  we  must  know — 
what  can  never  be  known  till  the  day  of  universal 
discovery — how  much  of  imperfection  and  obliquity 
may  consist  with  the  genuineness  of  real  piety,  and 
again  how  much  of  real  obliquity  there  was,  under 


OF    THK    ANCIENT    CHURCH.  185 

the  actual  circumstances,  in  the  conduct  in  question. 
Who  can  doubt  that  if  the  memorials  of  the  present 
times,  copious,  and  yet  inadequate  as  they  must  be, 
shall  remain  to  a  distant  age,  they  will  offer  similar 
perplexities  to  the  future  reader,  who,  amidst  his 
frequent  admiration  or  approval,  will  be  compelled 
to  exclaim — "But  how  may  we  think  these  men 
Christians?"  Christianity  is  in  gradual  process  of 
reforming  the  principles  and  practices  of  mankind, 
and  when  the  sanative  operation  shall  have  advanced 
some  several  stages  beyond  its  present  point,  the 
notions  and  usages  of  our  day,  compared  with  the 
commands  of  Christ,  as  then  understood,  will,  no 
doubt,  seem  incredibly  defective. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  said,  that  in  those  matters  of 
sentiment  that  depend  on  physical  temperament, 
and  on  modes  of  life,  the  people  of  the  British  isl- 
ands, are  less  qualified  to  sympathize  with  the  nations 
of  antiquity  than  almost  any  other  people  of  Chris- 
tendom; and  perhaps,  also,  by  national  arrogance 
and  pertinacity  of  taste,  we  are  less  ready  to  bend 
indulgently  to  usages  unlike  our  own  than  any  other 
people.  Stiff  in  the  resoluteness  of  an  exaggerated 
notion  of  the  right  of  private  judgment,  we  com- 
pare all  things  unsparingly  with  the  standard  of  be- 
lief and  practice,  or  rather  with  our  particular  pat- 
tern of  that  standard,  and  do  not,  until  our  better 
nature  prevails,  own  brotherhood  with  Christians  of 
another  complexion  and  costume.  A  somewhat 
austere  good  sense,  belonging,  first  to  the  haughti- 
ness and  energy  of  the  English  character,  then  to 


186  ENTHUSIASM 

the  liberality  of  our  political  institutions,  and  lastly, 
but  not  least,  to  the  all  pervading  spirit  and  habits 
of  trade,  renders  the  style  of  the  early  Christian  writ- 
ers much  more  distasteful  to  us  than  it  has  proved  to 
the  Christians  of  other  countries.  Moreover,  recent 
enhancements  of  national  character,  resulting  from 
the  diffusion  of  the  physical  sciences,  and  from  the 
more  extended  prevalence  of  commercial  feelings, 
has  placed  those  writers  at  a  point  much  further  re- 
moved from  our  literary  predilections  than  that  at 
which  they  stood  a  century  ago. 

But  again:  in  abatement  of  the  chagrin  which  a 
well-instructed  Christian  must  feel  in  first  opening 
the  remains  of  ecclesiastical  literature,  it  must  be 
remembered,  that  these  works  offer  a  very  defective 
image  of  the  state  of  religion  at  the  era  of  their  pro- 
ductionj  that  is  to  say,  of  religion  in  its  recesses, 
which  are  truly  the  homes  of  Christianity.  Those 
who  write  are  by  no  means  always  those  among  the 
ministers  of  religion,  whom  it  would  be  judicious 
to  select  as  the  best  samples  of  the  spirit  of  their 
times.  Moreover,  it  is  the  taste  of  a  following  age 
that  has  determined  which  among  the  writers  of  the 
preceding  period  should  be  transmitted  to  posterity; 
and  in  many  instances,  it  is  manifest,  that  a  depraved 
preference  has  given  literary  canonization  to  authors 
whose  ambition  was  much  rather  to  shine  as  masters 
of  a  florid  eloquence,  than  to  feed  the  flock  of  Christ. 
It  were  therefore  an  egregious  error  to  suppose  that 
the  spiritual  character  of  the  Church  lies  broadly  on 
the  surface  of  its  extant  literature:   on  the  contrary 


OF    THE    ANCIENT    CHURCH.  187 

charity  may  reasonably  find  large  room  for  pleasing 
conjectures  relative  to  obscure  piety,  of  which  no 
traces  are  to  be  found  on  the  pages  of  saints  and 
bishops.  The  record  of  the  spiritual  church  is  "on 
high,"  not  in  the  tomes  that  make  our  libraries 
proud. 

These  and  other  considerations,  which  will  pre- 
sent themselves  to  a  candid  and  intelligent  mind, 
cannot  but  remove  much  of  the  embarrassment 
and  disrelish  that  are  likely  to  attend  a  first  converse 
with  ancient  divinity.  And  the  pious  reader  will 
proceed  with  heart-felt  satisfaction  to  collect  abun- 
dant evidence  of  the  fact,  which  some  modern 
sophists  have  so  much  labored  to  obscure,  that  the 
great  mysteries  of  revealed  religion,  as  now  under- 
stood by  the  mass  of  Christians,  were  then  clearly 
and  firmly  held  by  the  body  of  the  Church.  And 
he  will  rejoice  also  to  meet  with  not  less  abundant 
and  satisfactory  proofs  of  the  energy,  purity,  and 
intenseness  of  practical  Christianity  among  a  large 
number  of  those  who  made  profession  of  the  name. 

Nevertheless,  after  every  fair  allowance  has  been 
made  and  every  indulgence  given  to  diversity  of 
circumstance,  and  after  the  errors  and  disgraces  of 
our  own  times  have  been  placed  in  counterpoise  to 
those  of  the  ancient  Church,  there  will  remain  glar- 
ing indications  of  a  deep-seated  corruption  of  re- 
ligious sentiment,  leaving  hardly  a  single  feeling 
proper  to  the  Christian  life  in  its  purity  and  sim- 
plicity. It  is  not  heresy,  it  is  not  the  denial  of  the 
principal  scriptural  doctrines,  that   is  to  be  charg- 


188  ENTHUSIASM 

ed  on  the  ancient  church, — the  body  of  divinity 
held  its  integrity.  Nor  is  it  the  want  of  heroic 
virtue  that  we  lament.  But  a  transmutation  of  the 
objects  of  the  devout  affections  into  objects  of  im- 
aginative delectation  had  taken  place — had  rendered 
the  piety  of  a  numerous  class  purely  fictitious — had 
tinged,  more  or  less,  with  idealism,  the  religious 
sentiments  of  all  but  a  few,  and  had  opened  the  way 
by  which,  at  length,  entered  the  dense  and  fatal 
delusions  of  a  superstition  so  gross  as  hardly  to  re- 
tain a  redeeming  quality. 

Not  a  few  of  the  Christians  of  the  third  century, 
and  multitudes  in  the  fourth  and  fifth — especially 
among  the  recluses,  having  lost  the  forcible  and 
genuine  feeling  of  guilt  and  danger  proper  to  those 
who  confess  themselves  transgressors  of  the  Divine 
Law,  and  in  consequence  become  blind  to  the  real 
purport  of  the  Gospel,  fixed  their  gaze  upon  the 
ideal  splendors  of  Christianity — were  smitten  with 
the  phaze  of  beauty,  of  sublimity,  of  infinitude,  of 
intellectual  elevation — were  charmed  with  its  sup- 
posed doctrine  of  abstraction  from  mundane  agita- 
tions, and  found  within  the  sphere  of  its  revelations, 
unfathomable  depths  where  vague  meditation  might 
plunge  and  plunge  with  endless  descents.  Fasci- 
nated, deluded,  and  still  blinded  more  by  the  deep- 
ening shades  of  error,  they  forgot  almost  entirely 
the  emotions  of  a  true  repentance,  and  of  a  cordial 
faith,  and  of  a  cheerful  obedience;  and  in  the  rugged 
path  of  gratuitous  afl[lictions,  and  unnatural  morti- 


OF    THE    ANCIENT    CHURCH.  189 

fications,  pursued  a  spectral  resemblance  of  piety, 
unsubstantial  and  cold  as  the  mists  of  night. 

While  hundreds  were  fatally  infatuated  by  this 
enthusiastic  religion,  the  piety  of  thousands  was 
more  or  less  impaired  by  their  mere  admiration  of 
it;  and  very  few  altogether  escaped  the  sickening 
infection  which  its  presence  spread  through  the 
Church. 

Modern  writers  of  a  certain  class  have  expatiated 
with  disproportionate  amplification  upon  the  open 
and  flagrant  corruptions,  which,  as  it  is  alleged,  fol- 
lowed as  a  natural  consequence  from  the  secular 
aggrandizement  of  the  clergy,  when  a  voice  from 
the  heavens  of  political  power  said  to  the  Church, 
"Come  up  hither."  No  doubt,  an  enhancement  and 
expansion  of  pride,  ambition,  luxuriousness,  and 
every  mundane  passion  took  place  at  Rome,  at 
Constantinople,  at  Alexandria,  at  Antioch,  and  else- 
where, when  emperors,  instead  of  oppressing,  or 
barely  tolerating  the  doctrine  of  Christ,  bowed  ob- 
sequiously to  his  ministers.*      But   the  very  same 

*  There  is  no  need  to  question  the  truth  of  the  following'  anecdote,  re- 
ported by  Sulpitius,  concerning  St.  Martin  of  Tours: — The  Emperor 
Maximus,  a  man  of  a  haughty  temper,  and  elate  by  victories  over  his  rivals, 
had  received  the  unworthy  adulation  of  a  crowd  of  fawning  Bishops; 
while  IVIartin  alone  maintained  the  apostolic  authority.  For  when  suits 
were  to  be  urged,  he  rather  commanded  than  entreated  the  royal  com- 
pliance, and  refused  many  solicitations  to  take  a  place  with  others  of  his 
order  at  the  imperial  table,  saying,  that  he  would  not  eat  bread  with  a 
man  who  had  deprived  one  emperor  of  his  throne,  and  another  of  life. 
But  at  length,  when  Maximus  excused  his  assumption  of  the  purple 
by  pleading  the  force  that  had  been  put  upon  him  by  the  legions,  the 
use  he  had  made  of  power,  and  the  apparent  sanction  of  heaven  in  the 

17 


190  ENTHUSIASM 

evils,  far  from  being  called  into  existence  by 
the  breath  of  imperial  favor,  had  reached  a  bold 

successes  with  which  he  had  been  favored,  and  slated  also  that  he  had 
never  destroyed  an  enemy  except  in  open  fig^ht,  Martin,  overcome  by 
reason  or  by  entreaties,  repaired  to  the  royal  banquet,  to  the  very  great 
joy  of  the  Emperor.  The  tables  were  crowded  by  persons  of  quality; 
among  them  the  brother  and  uncle  of  Maximus;  between  these  reclined 
one  of  Martin's  presbyters;  he  himself  occupied  a  seat  near  the  Emperor. 
During  supper,  according  to  custom,  the  waiter  presented  a  goblet  of 
wine  to  the  Emperor,  who  commanded  it  rather  to  be  offered  to  so  holy 
a  Bishop,  from  whose  hand  he  expected  and  desired  to  receive  it  again. 
But  Martin,  when  he  had  drank  of  the  cup,  handed  it  to  his  presbyter, 
not  deeming  any  one  present  more  worthy  to  drink  after  himself;  nor 
would  he  have  thought  it  becoming  to  his  character  had  he  preferred  even 
the  Emperor,  or  those  next  to  him  in  dignity,  to  his  own  presbyter.  It  is 
added,  that  Maximus  and  his  officers  took  this  contempt  in  exceeding 
good  part! — Sulp.  Sev.de   Vita  Mart.  cap.  xx. 

The  same  writer  reports  a  not  less  characteristic  incident  in  honor  of 
the  holy  Bishop,  in  his  dialogue  concerning  the  miraculous  powers  of  St. 
Martin; — This  personage  was  in  the  habit  of  frequenting  the  palace, 
where  he  was  always  honorably  entertained  by  the  Empress,  who  not 
only  hung  upon  his  lips  for  instruction,  but,  in  imitation  of  the  penitent 
mentioned  in  the  Gospels,  actually  bathed  his  feet  with  her  tears,  and 
wiped  them  with  her  hair;  and  he  who  never  before  had  sustained  the 
touch  of  a  woman!  could  not  avoid  her  assiduities.  She,  unmindful  of 
the  state  and  dignity  and  splendors  of  her  royal  rank,  lay  prostrate  at  the 
feet  of  Martin,  whence  she  could  not  be  removed  until  she  had  obtained 
permission,  first  from  her  husband,  and  then  by  his  aid  from  the  Bishop, 
to  wait  upon  him  at  table  as  his  servant,  without  the  assistance  of  any 
nienial.  The  blessed  man  could  no  longer  resist  her  importunities;  and 
the  Empress  herself  made  the  requisite  preparations  of  couch,  and  table, 
and  cookery,  (in  temperate  style)  and  water  for  the  hands;  and  as  he  sat, 
stood  aloof,  and  motionless,  in  the  manner  proper  to  a  slave;  with  due 
modesty  and  humility,  mixing  and  presenting  the  wine.  And  when  the 
ineal  was  ended,  reverently  collected  the  crumbs,  which  she  deemed  of 
higher  worth  than  the  delicacies  of  a  royal  banquet. — Cap.  C. 

In  how  short  a  time  may  prodigious  revolutions  take  place  in  the  sen- 
timents of  men!  This  monkish  Bishop  was  removed  by  not  more  than 
three  or  four  lives  from  the  Apostle  John!  and  this  humble  Empress 
occupi«d  the  honors  which,  within  the  memory  of  the  existing  generation, 


OF    THE    ANCIENT    CHURCH.  191 

height  even  while  the  martyrs  were  still  bleeding. 
And  moreover,  how  offensive  or  injurious  soever 
these  scandals  might  be,  either  before  or  after  the 
epoch  of  the  political  triumphs  of  the  cross,  they 
did  but  scathe  the  exterior  of  Christianity.  In  every 
age  the  vices — always  duly  blazoned — of  secular 
churchmen,  have  stained  its  surface.  But  when 
there  has  been  warmth  and  purity  within,  the  mis- 
chief occasioned  by  such  evils  has  scarcely  been 
more  than  that  of  giving  point  to  the  railleries  of 
men  who  would  still  have  scoffed,  though  not  a 
bishop  had  been  arrogant,  or  a  presbyter  licentious. 
Christianity  lost  its  simplicity  and  glory  in  the 
hands  of  its  most  devoted  friends  long  before  the 
impure  alliance  between  the  Church  and  the  world 
had  taken  place.  The  copious  history  of  this  inter- 
nal perversion  would  afford  a  worthy  subject  of  dil- 
igent inquiry;  and  though  materials  for  a  complete 
explication  of  the  process  of  Corruption  are  not  in 
existence,  enough  remains  to  invite  and  reward  the 
necessary  labor. 

had  been  sustained  by  the  mother  of  Galerius!  It  should  be  added,  that 
the  auditor  of  the  story  above  related,  shocked  at  the  inconsistency  of 
St.  Martin  in  thus  admitting  the  offices  of  a  woman  so  near  his  devoted 
person,  requires  from  the  narrator  an  explanation;  who,  in  reply,  reminds 
his  friend,  that  the  compliance  of  the  Bishop  with  the  solicitations  of  the 
Emperor  and  Empress  was  the  price  by  which  he  obtained  from  the  for- 
mer release  and  grace  for  the  persecuted  Priscillianists.  The  best  thing, 
by  far,  related  of  the  Bishop  of  Tours,  is  his  firmness  in  opposing  perse- 
cution. There  is  great  reason  to  believe  that,  in  common  with  several 
of  the  most  noted  characters  of  Church  history,  his  true  reputation  Las 
been  immensely  injured  by  the  ill-judged  zeal  of  his  biographer. 


192  ENTHUSIASM 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  ancient  Church  presents 
itself  under  many  distinct  forms,  among  which  the 
following  may  be  mentioned: — The  enthusiasm  of 
Voluntary  Martyrdom; — that  of  Miraculous  Preten- 
sion;— that  of  Prophetical  interpretation,  or  Millen- 
arianism; — that  of  the  Mystical  exposition  of  Scrip- 
ture;— and  that  of  Monai"chism.  Of  these,  the  last, 
whether  or  not  it  was  truly  the  parent  of  the  other 
kinds,  includes  them  as  parts  of  itself;  for  whatever 
perversions  of  Christianity  were  chargeable  upon 
the  sentiments  and  practices  of  the  general  Church, 
belonged  by  eminence  to  the  recluses.  A  review 
of  the  principles  and  the  ingredients  of  this  system 
will  better  accord  with  the  limits  and  design  of 
this  Essay,  than  an  extended  examination  of  facts 
under  the  separate  heads  just  named. 

A  strict  equity  has  by  no  means  been  always  ob- 
served by  Protestant  writers  in  their  criminations 
of  the  Romish  Church.  With  the  view  of  aggra- 
vating the  just  and  needful  indignation  of  mankind 
against  the  mother  of  corruption,  it  has  been  usual 
to  lay  open  the  concealments  of  the  monastery; 
and  with  materials  before  him  so  various  and  copi- 
ous, even  the  dullest  writer  might  cheaply  be  enter- 
taining, eloquent,  and  vigorous.  Meantime  it  is  not 
duly  considered,  or  not  fairly  stated,  that  the  rep- 
robation passes  back,  in  full  force,  to  an  age  much 
more  remote  than  that  of  the  supremacy  of  Ronrie. 
The  bishops  of  Rome  did  but  avail  themselves  of  the 
aid  of  a  system  which  had  reached  a  full  maturity 
without  their  fostering  care — which  had  been  sane- 


OP    THE    ANCIENT    CHURCH.  193 

tioned  and  cherished,  almost  without  an  exception, 
by  every  father  of  the  Church,  eastern  and  western 
— which  had  come  down  in  its  elements  even  from 
the  primitive  age,  and  which  had  won  for  itself  a 
suffrage  so  general,  if  not  universal,  that  he  must 
have  possessed  an  extraordinary  measure  of  wis- 
dom, courage,  and  influence;  who  should  have  ven- 
tured beyond  a  cautious  and  moderated  censure  of 
its  more  obvious  abuses.* 

Every  essential  principle,  almost  every  adjunct, 
and  almost  every  vice  of  the  monkery  of  the  tenth 
or  twelfth  century,  may  be  detected  in  that  of  the 
fifth:  or  if  an  earlier  period  were  named,  proof 
would  not  be  wanting  to  make  the  allegation  de- 
fensiblef .  But  if  it  be  affirmed  that  the  actual 
amount  of  hypocrisy  and  corruption  usually  shel- 
tered beneath  the  roof  of  the  monastery,  was  in- 
comparably greater  in  the  later  than  in  the  earlier 
age,  it  should,  as  a  counterpoise,  be  stated,  that 
in  the  later  period  the  religious  houses  contained 

*  The  Christians  of  Neocaesarea  are  reproved  by  Basil  for  admitting-, 
too  easily  the  slanders  propagated  by  Satan,  the  father  of  lies,  against 
certain  women  of  the  monastic  order,  whose  improprieties,  a»»o-,</w, 
if  real,  he  does  not  wish  to  defend.  It  is  evident  that  these  converts  of 
Gregory,  though  they  wisely  disliked  the  monkish  system,  scarcely  veji- 
tured  to  do  more  than  find  fault  with  its  glaring  abuses.  The  same 
sort  of  measured  and  reserved  reprehension  may  be  found  not  seldom 
in  those  of  the  fathers  who  were  the  least  inclined  to  the  prevailing  en- 
thusiasm. 

t  The  life  of  St.  Antony,  by  the  pious  and  respectable  Alhanasius, 
would  alone  afford  ample  proof  of  the  assertion,  that  even  in  the  third 
century  the  spirit  of  fanaticism,  and  the  practices  of  religious  knavery, 
had  reached  a  height  scarcely  surpassed  at  any  later  period, 

*17 


194  THE    ANCIENT 

almost  all  the  piety  and  the  learning  that  any 
where  existed;  while  in  the  former  there  was  cer- 
tainly as  much  piety  without  as  within  these  seclu- 
sions— and  much  more  of  learning.*  The  monkery 
of  the  middle  ages,  moreover,  stands  partially  ex- 
cused by  the  dense  ignorance  of  the  times;  while 
that  of  the  ancient  Church  is  condemned  by  the 
surrounding  light,  both  of  human  and  divine  knowl- 
edge. The  very  establishments  which  redeem  the 
age  of  Roger  Bacon  from  oblivion  and  contempt, 
do  but  blot  the  times  of  Gregory  Nazianzen. 

Eusebius,-)-  followed  by  several  later  writers,  as- 
serts— though  in  opposition  to  the  most  explicit  evi- 
dence, and  manifestly  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
sanction  to  a  system  so  much  admired  in  his  time, 
that  the  Christian  sodalities  were  directly  derived 
from  those  of  the  Essenes  and  Therapeutics  of 
Judea  and  Egypt,  whom  he  affirms  to  have  been 
Christian  recluses  of  the  first  century,  indebted  for 
their  rules  and  establishment  to  St.  Mark.  The 
testimony  of  the  Jew  PhiloJ  gives  conclusive  con- 
tradiction to  this   sinister  averment;  not  to  mention 

*  The  first  Christian  monks  followed  the  Essenes  in  this  particular  also, 
that  they  despised  human  science;  and  it  was  not  until  learning-  had  been 
driven  from  among  secular  persons,  that  it  took  refuge  in  monasteries. 
If  the  monks  had  avoided  the  infection  of  the  philosophy,  "falsely  so 
called,"  which  the  Platonists  brought  into  the  Church,  and  instead  had 
given  their  leisure  to  the  toils  of  biblical  learning,  they  would  not  so  soon 
and  so  completely  have  spoiled  Christianity'. 

t  Hist.  Ecclesiast.  lib.  ii.  cap.  16.  See  also  Evan.  Praep.  lib.  viii.  cap. 
11.    The  Romanists  generally  adopt  this  misrepresentation  of  Eusebius. 

X  The  passages  from  Philo,  Josephus,  and  Pliny,  are  given  at  length  by 
Prideaux,  Connect.     Part  II.  Book  V. 


MONACHISM.  195 

that  of  Pliny,  and  Josephus;  for  the  minute  descrip- 
tion given  by  that  writer  of  the  opinions  and  observ- 
ances of  the  sect,  besides  that  it  is  incompatible  with 
the  supposition  that  the  people  spoken  of  were 
Christians,  was  composed  in  the  life-time  of  Paul 
and  Peter,  and  the  recluses  are  then  mentioned  as 
having  long  existed  under  the  same  regulations. 
Nevertheless  the  coincidence  between  the  senti- 
ments and  practices  of  the  Jewish  and  of  the  Chris- 
tian monks,  is  far  too  complete  and  exact  to  be  at- 
tributed either  to  accident,  or  merely  to  the  influ- 
ence of  general  principles,  operating  alike  in  both 
instances;  and  the  more  limited  assertion  of  Pho- 
tius*  may  safely  be  adopted,  who  affirms  that  "the 
sect  of  Jews  who  followed  a  philosophic  life,  wheth- 
er contemplative  or  active — the  one  called  Essenes, 
the  other  Therapeutics — not  only  founded  monas- 
teries and  private  sanctuaries,  aeij^veta,  but  laid  down 
the  rules  which  have  been  adopted  by  those  who,  in 
our  own  times,  lead  a  solitary  life." 

A  reference  to  the  previous  existence  of  monas- 
ticism  among  the  Jews,  in  a  very  specious,  and,  in 
some  respects,  commendable  mode,  is  indispensa- 
ble to  the  forming  of  an  equitable  judgment  of  the 

*  Bibliothec.  Art.  CIII.  Philo.  The  annotator  upon  this  article  quotes 
Philo  in  illustration  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  (rifAvuov,  which  seems  to  have 
been  the  designation  of  the  little  chapel  or  oratory  so  frequently  constructed 
in  secluded  situations  by  the  devout  Jews,  for  the  exercises  of  piety;  and  to 
which  allusion  is  supposed  to  be  made  in  the  Gospels.  See  Bennett's 
Cknttian  Oratory,  and  Campbell's  Dissertations.  Into  these  little  sanc- 
tuaries no  article  of  food,  or  accommodation  for  the  body,  was  ever 
brought;  they  differed  therefore  from  the  cells  of  the  hermits. 


196  ORIGIN    OF    THK 

conduct  of  those  Christians  in  Palestine  and  Egypt, 
who  first  abandoned  the  duties  of  common  life  for 
the  indulgence  of  their  religious  tastes.*  They  did 
but  adopt  a  system  which  was  already  sanctioned 
by  long  usage,  which,  though  existing  in  the  time  of 
Christ  and  the  Apostles,  had  not  drawn  upon  itself 
from  Him  or  them  any  explicit  condemnationjf  and 
which  might  even  plead  a  semblance  of  support 
from  some  of  their  injunctions,  literally  understood, 
though  plainly  condemned  by  the  spirit  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

Nor  is  this  the  sole  circumstance  that  should,  in 
mere  justice,  be  considered  in  connection  with  the 
rise  of  Christian  monachism;  for  before  the  mere 
facts  can  be  understood,  and  certainly  before  the  due 
measure  of  blame  can  be  assigned  to  the  parlies  con- 
cerned, it  is  indispensable  that  we  divest  ourselves 
of  the  prejudices,  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual, 
which  belong  to  our  austere  climate,  high-toned 


*  On  the  common  and  acknowledged  principles  of  historical  composi- 
tion, the  practice  which  has  so  much  prevailed  of  commencing  Church 
history  with  the  ministry  of  Christ,  must  be  deemed  unsatisfactory  and  im- 
proper. If  the  rise  and  progress  of  Christianity  is  to  be  understood  as 
viatter  of  history,  the  state  of  the  Jews  and  surrounding  nations  in  the 
preceding  century  should  be  fully  depicted. 

t  Different  suppositions  have  been  adopted  for  explaining  the  remark- 
able fact  that  no  mention  of  the  Essenes  occurs  in  the  New  Testament, 
though  the  other  Jewish  sects  are  so  often  and  so  explicitly  named:  the 
reasons  given  and  adduced  by  Lardner,  Creel.  Part  I.  chap.  4,  are  satis- 
factory. It  has  been  well  observed  that  though  our  Lord  does  not  expli- 
citly name,  or  refute  the  Essenes,  every  one  of  their  fundamental  princi- 
ples is  condemned  in  his  arguments  with  the  Pharisees.  So  far  as  these 
recluses  were  worthy  of  blame,  they  come  virtually  under  the  censures 
pronounced  upon  the  Pharisaic  practice  and  doctrine. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  197 

irritability,  edacious  appetites,  and  pampered  con- 
stitutions;— to  our  rigid  style  of  thinking,  and  to  our 
commercial  habits  of  feeling.  The  Christian  of 
England  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  the  Chris- 
tian of  Syria  in  the  second,  stand  almost  at  the  ex- 
tremest  points  of  opposition  in  all  the  non-essentials 
of  human  nature;  and  the  former  must  possess  great 
pliability  of  imagination,  and  much  of  the  philo- 
sophic temper,  as  well  as  the  spirit  of  Christian  char- 
ity, fairly  and  fully  to  appreciate  the  motives  and 
conduct  of  the  latter. 

That  quiescent  under-action  of  the  mind  to  which 
we  apply  the  term  meditation,  is  a  habit  of  thought 
that  has  been  engrafted  upon  the  European  intellect 
in  consequence  of  the  reception  of  Christianity. 
It  is  a  product  almost  as  proper  to  Asia  as  are  the 
aromatics  of  Arabia,  or  the  spices  of  India.  The 
human  mind  does  not  every  where  expand  in  this 
manner,  nor  spontaneously  show  these  hues  of 
heaven,  nor  emit,  this  fragrance,  except  under  the 
fervent  suns  and  deep  azure  skies  of  tropical  re- 
gions.*    If  the  Hebrew  and  Christian  Scriptures 


*  Persia  and  India  were  the  native  soils  of  the  contemplative  philoso- 
phy, as  Greece  was  the  source  of  the  raliocinative.  The  immense  difl'er- 
ence  between  the  Asiatic  and  the  European  turn  of  mind — if  the  familiar 
phrase  may  be  used,  becomes  conspicuous  if  some  pag'es  of  either  the 
Logic  or  Ethics  of  Aristotle  are  compared  with  what  remains  of  the  sei)- 
timents  of  the  Gnostics.  The  influence  of  Christianity  upon  the  moderns 
has  been  to  temper  the  severity  of  the  ratiocinative  taste,  with  a  taste  for 
contemplation; — contemplation  by  so  much  the  better  than  that  of  tiie 
oriental  sages,  as  it  takes  its  range  in  the  hearty  not  in  the  imagination. 


198  MOTIVES    OF    THE 

had   been  confined   to  the    East,   as   in  fact   they 
have  been  almost  confined  to  the  West,  the  mod- 
ern nations  of  Europe  would  perhaps  have  known 
as  little  of  the  compass  of  the  meditative  faculty, 
and  of  its  delights,  as  did  the  Romans  in  the  age  of 
Sylla.     The  Greeks,  being  near,  to  Asia  geograph- 
ically, near  by  similarity  of  climate,  and  near  by  the 
repeated  importations  of  eastern  philosophy,  imbib- 
ed something  of  the  spirit  of  tranquil  abstraction: 
yet  was  it  foreign  to  the  genius  of  that  restless  and 
reasoning  people.     Pythagoras  probably,  and  cer- 
tainly Plato,  whose  mind  was  almost  as  much  Asiatic 
as  Grecian,  and  whose  writings  are  anomalies  in  Gre- 
cian literature,  effected  a  partial  amalgamation  of 
the  oriental  with  the  western  style  of  thought.     Yet 
the    foreign   mixture   would   probably  have   disap- 
peared if  Christianity  had  not  afterwards  diflfused 
eastern  sentiments  through  the  west.     The  combi- 
nation was  again  cemented  by  the  writings  of  those 
fathers  who,  after  having  studied  Plato,  and  taught 
the  rhetoric  and  philosophy  of  Greece,  devoted  their 
talents  to  the  service  of  the  Gospel.* 

But  though  the  nations  of  the  west  have  acquired 
a  taste  for  this  species  of  thought,  it  is  the  distinc- 
tion of  the  Asiatic  to  meditate;  as  to  reason,  and  to 
act,  is  the  glory  of  the  European.  To  withdraw  the 
soul  from  the  senses—to  divorce  the  exterior  from  the 
inner  man — to  detain  the  spirit  within  its  own  circle, 

*  Justin  Martyr  should  be  named  at  the  head  of  this  class,  which  in- 
cludes Irenaeus,  Tertullian,  Pantaenus,  Clemens  Alexandrinus,  and  Ori- 
gen,  not  to  mention  names  of  a  later  period. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  199 

and  to  accustom  it  there  to  find  its  bliss — to  pene- 
trate the  depths  and  concealments  of  the  heart — to 
repose  during  lengthened  periods  upon  a  single  idea, 
without  a  wish  for  progression  or  change. — Or  to 
break  away  from  the  imperfections  of' the  visible 
world — to    climb   the     infinite — to   hold   converse 
with  supernal  beauty  and  excellence;  these  are  the 
prerogatives  and  pleasures  of  the  oriental  intellec- 
tualist:  and  this  is  a  happiness  which  he  enjoys  in  a 
perfection  altogether  unknown  to  the  busy,  nervous, 
and  frigid  people  of  the  north.     If  by  favor  of  a 
peculiar  temperament  the    oriental    frees  himself 
from  the  solicitations  of  voluptuous  indulgence;  if 
the  mental  tastes  are  vivid  enough  to  counteract 
the  appetites;  then  he  finds  a  life  of  inert  abstrac- 
tion, of  abstemiousness,  and  of  solitude,  not  merely 
easy  but  delicious. 

The  lassitude  which  belongs  to  his  constitution 
and  climate  more  than  suffices  to  reconcile  the 
contemplatist  to  the  want  of  those  enjoyments 
which  are  to  be  obtained  only  by  toil.  A  genial 
temperature,  and  a  languid  stomach,  reduce  the 
necessary  charges  of  maintenance  to  an  amount  that 
must  seem  incredibl-y  small  to  the  well-housed, 
well-clothed,  and  high-fed  people  of  northern  Eu- 
rope. The  slenderest  revenues  are,  therefore, 
enough  to  free  him  from  all  cares  of  the  present  life. 
He  has  only  to  renounce  married  life — its  claims 
and  its  burdens,  and  then  the  skeleton-machinery 
of  his  individual  existence  may  be  impelled  in  its 


200  ORIGIN    OF    THE 

daily  round    of  sluggish    movement,    by   air,   and 
water,  and  a  lettuce.* 

The  Asiatic  character  is  in  no  inconsiderable  de- 
gree affected  by  the  habit  resulting  from  that  insuf- 
ferable fervor  of  the  sun  at  noon,  which  compels  a 
suspension  of  active  employments  during  the  broad 
light  of  day.  The  period  of  repose  easily  extends 
itself  through  all  the  hours  of  sultry  heat,  if  neces- 
sity does  not  exact  labor.  Then  the  quiescence  in 
which  the  day  has  been  passed  lends  an  elasticity 
of  mind  to  the  hours  of  night,  when  the  effulgent 
magnificence  of  the  skies  kindles  the  imagination, 
and  enhances  meditation  to  ecstacy.  How  little, 
beneath  the  lowering,  and  chilly,  and  misty  skies 
of  Britain,  can  we  appreciate  the  power  of  these 
natural  excitements  of  mental  abstraction! 


*  Sulpitiiis  affords  abundant  illustration  of  the  topics  adverted  to  in 
this  section.  Perhaps,  within  so  small  a  compass,  the  principles  and  prac- 
tices of  the  ancient  monachism  are  no  where  else  so  fully  brought  into 
view,  as  in  his  Dialogues  and  Epistles.  He  may  properly  be  quoted  in 
the  present  instance.  Posturaianus,  lately  returned  from  the  East,  that  is 
to  sav,  from  Egypt,  Arabia,  and  Palestine,  describes  to  his  astonished 
brethren  of  a  monastery  in  Gaul,  the  abstemiousness  of  the  oriental  monks. 
as  well  as  their  piety  and  marvellous  exploits.  (On  his  outward  voyage 
Postumianus  had  gone  ashore  at  Carthage  to  visit  the  spots  dedicated  to 
the  saints,  especially — ad  sepulcrum  Cypriani  Martyris  adorare.)  His 
first  specimen  of  a  monkish  dinner,  in  the  oriental  style,  was  the  being  in- 
vited to  partake,  with  four  others,  of  half  a  barley  cake;  to  which  was 
added  a  handful  of  a  certain  sweet  herb,  altogether  deemed  to  be  pran- 
dium  locupletissimum.  Sulpitius  hence  takes  occasion  to  joke  a  brother, 
who  was  present,  upon  their  own  comparative  appetites;  but  he  replies 
that  it  was  extremely  unkind  to  urge  upon  Gauls  a  manner  of  living  prop- 
er only  to  angels— Hearty  eating,  says  he,  in  a  Greek,  is  gluttony;  but  in 
a  Gaul — nature. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  201 

In  an  enumeration  of  the  natural  causes  of  the 
anchoretic  life,  the  influence  of  scenery  should  not 
be  overlooked.  As  the  gay  and  multiform  beauties 
of  a  broken  surface  teeming  with  vegetation  (when 
seconded  by  favoring  circumstances)  generate  the 
soul  of  poetry;  so  (with  similar  aids)  the  habit  of 
musing  in  vacuity  of  thought  is  cherished  by  the 
aspect  of  boundless  wastes,  and  arid  plains,  or  of 
enormous  piles  of  naked  mountain:  and  to  the  spirit 
that  has  turned  with  sickening  or  melancholy  aver- 
sion from  the  haunts  of  man,  such  scenes  are  not 
less  grateful  or  less  fascinating  than  are  the  most 
delicious  landscapes  to  the  frolic  eye  of  joyous 
youth.  The  wilderness  of  the  Jordan,  the  stony 
tracks  of  Arabia,  the  precincts  of  Sinai,  and  the 
dead  solitudes  of  sand,  traversed — but  not  enliven- 
ed by  the  Nile,  offered  themselves,  therefore,  as  the 
natural  birth-places  of  monachism;  and  skirting 
as  they  did  the  focus  of  religion,  long  continued 
(indeed  they  have  never  wholly  ceased)  to  invite 
numerous  desertions  from  the  ranks  of  common 
life. 

A  general  and  extreme  corruption  of  manners — 
the  wantonness,  and  folly,  and  enormity  of  licentious 
opulence,  and  the  foul  depravity  which  never  fails 
to  characterize  the  misery  that  follows  the  steps  of 
luxury,  operate  powerfully  in  the  way  of  re-action 
to  exacerbate  the  motives,  and  to  swell  the  excesses 
of  the  ascetic  life,  when  once  that  mode  of  relig- 
ion has  been  called  into  being.  If  the  "powers  of 
18 


202  MOTIVES   OF   THE 

the  world  to  come"  are  vividly  felt  by  those  who  re- 
nounce sensual  pleasure,  the  vigor  of  their  self-deni- 
al, and  the  firmness  of  their  resolution  in  adhering  to 
their  rule,  vi^ill  commonly  bear  proportion  to  the 
depth  of  the  surrounding  profligacy.  Nothing  could 
more  effectually  starve  this  species  of  enthusiasm 
in  any  country  in  which  it  appeared  to  be  growing, 
than  to  elevate  public  morals.  The  exaggerated 
virtue  of  the  monastery  can  never  subsist  in  the 
near  neighborhood  of  the  genuine  virtue  of  domes- 
tic life;  nor  can  religious  celibacy  be  in  high  es- 
teem among  a  people  who  regard  adultery,  not  less 
than  murder  and  theft,  as  a  crime,  and  with  whom 
fornication  is  the  cloaked  vice  only  of  a  few.  But 
in  Syria  and  the  neighboring  countries,  at  the  time 
when  the  monastic  life  took  its  rise,  the  most  shame- 
less dissoluteness  of  manners  prevailed,  and  pre- 
vailed to  a  degree  that  has  rarely  been  exceeded; 
and  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  early  estab- 
lishments of  the  Essenes  were,  in  a  great  measure, 
peopled  by  those  who,  having  imbibed  the  love  of 
virtue  from  Moses  and  the  prophets,  fled,  almost 
by  necessity,  from  a  world  in  which  the  practice 
of  temperance  and  purity  had  become  scarcely  pos- 
sible.*    In  after  times,  the  corruption  of  the  great 

*  The  evidence  of  Josephus,  (often  cited)  though  there  may  sometimes 
be  traced  in  it  a  little  oratorical  exaggeration,  is  sufficient  to  prove  the  ex- 
istence of  a  more  than  ordinary  profligacy  and  ferocity  among  the  Jews 
of  his  time.  This  people,  destitute  of  the  restraining  and  refining  influ- 
ence of  philosophy  and  of  elegant  literature,  which  ameliorated  the  man- 
ners of  the  surrounding  nations,  had  been  deprived,  almost  entirely,  of  all 
salutary  restraints  from  the  Divine  Law  by  the  corrupt  evasions  of  Rab- 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM. 


201 


,  cities,  in  a  similar  manner,  contributed  to  fill  the 
monastic  houses. 

A  large  indulgence,  to  say  no  more,  is  therefore 
due  to  those  ardent  but  feeble-minded  persons,  who, 
untaught  by  an  experiment  of  the  danger  they  in- 
curred, fell  into  the  plausible  error  of  supposing 
that  a  just  solicitude  for  the  preservation  of  person- 
al virtue  might  excuse  their  withdrawment  from  the 
duties  of  common  life;  especially  as  they  were  will- 
ing to  purchase  their  discharge  from  its  claims,  by 
resigning  their  share  of  its  lawful  delights.  The 
Christian  recluses  fled  from  scenes  in  which,  as  they 
believed,  purity  could  not  breathe,  to  solitudes  where 
(though  no  doubt  they  found  themselves  mistaken) 
they  supposed  it  would  flourish  spontaneously.  And, 
in  truth,  though  it  must  be  much  more  difficult  to 
live  virtuously  under  the  provoking  restraints  of  mo- 
nastic vows,  than  amid  the  allowed  enjoyments  of 
domestic  life,  refined  by  Christianity,  there  may  be 
room  to  question  whether  the  balance  might  not  be 
really  in  favor  of  the  monastery,  when  the  only  al- 
ternative was  an  abode  with  extreme  profligacy. 

So  natural  to  young  and  ardent  minds,  under  the 
first  fervors  of  religious  feeling,  is  the  wish  to  run 
far  from  the  sight  and  hearing  of  seductive  pleasure, 
and  so  plausibly  may  such  a  design  recommend  it- 
self to  the  simple  and  sincere,  that,  even  in  our  own 
times,  if  by  any  means  the  general  opinion  of  the 

binical  exposition.  At  the  same  time,  tlie  keen  disappointment  of  the 
national  hope  of  universal  dominion  under  the  Messiah,  exasperated  their 
native  pride  to  madness. 


204  MOTIVES    OF    THE 

Christian  Church  could  be  brought  round  to  favor, 
or  to  allow  the  practice  of  monastic  seclusion — if, 
instead  of  being  on  all  sides  reprobated  and  ridicul- 
ed, it  were  permitted,  encouraged  and  admired — the 
conjecture  may  be  hazarded,  that  an  instantaneous 
rush  from  all  our  religious  communities  would  take 
place,  and  a  host  of  the  ardent,  the  imaginative,  the 
melancholic — not  to  mention  the  disappointed,  the 
splenetic  and  the  fanatical — would  abandon  the 
domestic  circle  and  the  scenes  of  business,  to  peo- 
ple sanctuaries  of  celibacy  and  prayer  in  every 
sequestered  valley  of  our  island. 

Besides  the  ordinary  miseries  of  frequent  war  and 
pf  a  foreign  domination,  which  afflicted,  more  or 
less,  the  other  provinces  of  the  Roman  empire,  the 
existence  among  the  Jews  of  a  species  of  fanaticism 
perfectly  unparalleled,  allowed  the  Syrian  Palestine 
to  taste  very  imperfectly  the  benefits  of  temperate 
and  vigorous  rule.  The  intractable  and  malignant 
infatuation  of  that  people  so  baffled  the  wisdom  of 
the  Roman  government,  and  so  disturbed  its  wont- 
ed equanimity,  as  to  compel  it  to  treat  the  unhappy 
Judaea  with  unmeasured  severity.  Or  if  respite 
were  enjoyed  from  military  inflictions,  the  brutal 
violences  of  their  own  princes,  or  the  atrocities  per- 
petrated by  demagogues,  kept  constantly  alive  the 
brand  of  public  and  private  discord.  During  such 
times  of  insecurity  and  wretchedness,  it  is  usual  for 
the  passive  portion  of  the  community  to  sink  into  a 
state,  either  of  reckless  sensuality  or  of  pining  des- 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  205 

pondency.  But  if,  in  this  class,  there  are  those  who 
have  received  the  consoling  hope  of  a  bright  and 
peaceful  immortality,  it  is  only  natural  that,  when 
hunted  from  all  earthly  comfort  by  violence  and  ex- 
tortion, they  should  look  wistfully  at  the  grave,  and 
long  to  rest  where  "the  wicked  cease  from  troub- 
ling." In  this  state  of  mind  it  cannot  be  deemed 
strange  that,  upon  the  first  smile  of  opportunity,  they 
should  hasten  away  from  scenes  of  blood  and  wrong, 
and  anticipate  the  wished-for  release  from  life,  by 
hiding  themselves  in  caverns  and  in  deserts. 

A  frightful  solitude  might  well  appear  a  paradise, 
and  extreme  privations  be  thought  luxurious,  to  those 
who,  in  their  retreat,  felt  at  length  safe  from  an  en- 
counter with  man — who,  when  savage,  is  by  far  the 
most  terrible  of  all  savage  animals.  Such  were  the 
causes  which  had  driven  multitudes  of  the  well-dis- 
posed among  the  Jews  into  the  wilderness.  The 
severities  of  persecution  afterwards  produced  the 
same  effect  on  the  Christians;  and  first  on  those  of 
Syria  and  Egypt.* 

So  long  as  he  could  wander  unmolested  over  the 
pathless  mountain  tract,  or  exist  in  the  arid  desert,  the 
timid  follower  of  Christ  not  only  avoided  torture  or 
violent  death,  but  escaped  what  he  dreaded  more — 
the  hazard  of  apostacy  under  extreme  trial.  Having 
once  effected  his  retreat,  and  borne  for  a  time  the  loss 

**  This  eflect  is  well  known  to  have  resulted  from  the  DecicUi  persecu- 
tion, and  probably  also  from  those  that  preceded  it.  No  blame  can  be 
attributed  to  Christians  who,  in  such  times,  fled  from  cities,  and  took  re- 
fuge in  solitudes,  unless,  indeed,  by  so  doing  they  abandoned  those  whom 
they  ought  to  have  defended. 

*18 


206  MOTIVES  or  the 

of  friends  and  comforts,  he  soon  acquired  physical 
habits  and  intellectual  tastes  which  rendered  a  life 
in  the  wilderness  not  only  tolerable,  but  agreeable. 
To  the  fearful  and  inert,  safety  and  rest  are  the  prime 
ingredients  of  happiness,  and  go  far  towards  consti- 
tuting a  heaven  upon  earth. 

In  the  absolute  solitude  of  the  desert,  or  in  the 
mitigated  seclusion  of  the  monastery,  a  large  pro- 
portion, probably,  of  the  recluses  soon  drooped  into 
the  inanity  of  trivial  pietism;  a  few,  perhaps,  after 
the  first  excitement  failed,  bit  their  chain  from  day 
to  day,  to  the  end  of  life;  or  wrung  a  wretched  sol- 
ace from  concealed  vices.  But  those  who  by  vigor 
of  mind  supported  better  the  preying  of  the  soul 
upon  itself,  could  do  no  otherwise  than  exchange  the 
simple  and  affectionate  piety,  with  which  perhaps 
they  entered  the  wilderness,  for  some  form  of  vision- 
ary religion.*  To  maintain,  unbent  and  unsullied, 
the  rectitude  of  sound  reason,  and  the  propriety  of 
sound  feelings,  in  solitude,  is  an  achievement  which, 
it  may  confidently  be  affirmed,  surpasses  the  powers 
of  human  nature.  Good  sense — never  the  product 
of  a  single  mind — is  the  fruit  of  intercourse  and  col- 
lision. 

When  the  several  circumstances  above  mention- 
ed are  duly  considered,  they  will  remove  from  candid 

*  The  errors  and  extravagancies  generated  by  the  monastic  life  did  not 
ordinarily  extend  to  the  fundamental  principles  of  Christianity.  The 
monks  were,  for  the  most  part,  zealously  attached  to  the  doctrine  of  the 
Nicene  Creed. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  207 

minds  almost  every  sensation  of  asperity  or  contempt- 
uous reprobation  towards  those  who,  in  their  day  of 
defective  knowledge,  became  the  victims,  or  even  the 
zealous  supporters,  of  the  prevalent  enthusiasm.  We 
have  done  then  with  the  parties  in  these  scenes  of 
delusion  and  folly; — at  least  with  those  of  them  who 
were  sincere  in  their  error.  But  when  we  turn  to 
the  system  itself,  and  gain  that  licence  which  charity 
herself  may  grant,  while  an  abstraction  only  is  under 
contemplation,  we  may  remember  that  this  monkery, 
so  innocent  in  its  commencement,  and  so  plausible 
in  its  progress,  was  the  chief  means  of  destroying 
the  substance  of  Christianity,  and  ought  to  be  deem- 
ed the  principal  cause  of  the  gross  darkness  which 
hung  over  the  Church  during  more  than  a  thousand 
years. 


SECTION   IX. 

THE   SAME  SUBJECT.— INGREDIENTS   OF  THE   ANCIENT 
MONACHISM. 

Among  the  principal  elements  of  the  ancient 
Monachism,  it  is  natural  to  name,  first — 

Its  contempt  of  the  divine  constitution  of  human 
nature,  and  its  outrage  of  common  instincts. 

It  may  be  hard  to  determine  which  is  the  greater 
folly  and  impiety — that  of  the  Atheist,  who  can 
contemplate  the  admirable  mechanism  of  the  body, 
and  not  see  there  the  proofs  of  divine  wisdom  and 
benevolence;  or  that  of  the  enthusiast,  who,  seeing 
and  acknowledging  the  hand  of  God  in  the  mech- 
anism of  the  human  frame,  yet  dares  to  institute 
and  to  recommend  modes  of  life  which  do  violence 
to  the  manifest  intentions  of  the  Creator,  as  therein 
displayed;  and  moreover,  is  not  afraid  to  assert  a 
warrant  from  Heaven  for  such  outrages.  As  if  the 
Creator  and  Governor  of  the  world  were  not  one 
and  the  same  Being — one  in  counsel  and  purpose. 
Or  as  if  the  Author  of  Christianity  were  not  also 
the  Author  of  nature!  Yet  this  preposterous  error, 
this  virtual  Manichseism,  has  seemed  to  belong  nat- 
urally to  every  attempt  to  stretch  and  exaggerate 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  209 

the  precepts  of  the  Gospel  beyond  their  obvious 
sense;  and  indeed  has  seldom  failed  to  show  itself 
in  seasons  of  unusual  religious  excitement. 

Christianity  is  a  religion  neither  for  angels  nor 
for  ghosts;  but  for  man,  as  God  made  him.  Nev- 
ertheless, in  revealing  eternity,  and  in  establishing 
the  paramount  claims  of  the  future  world,  it  placed 
all  the  interests  of  the  present  transient  life  under 
a  comparison  of  immense  disparity;  so  that  it  be- 
came true — true  to  a  demonstration,  that  a  man 
ought  to  "hate  his  own  life"  if  the  love  of  it  put 
his  welfare  for  immortality  in  jeopardy.  Unques- 
tionably, if  by  such  means  the  well-being  of  the 
imperishable  spirit  could  be  secured  and  promoted, 
it  would  highly  become  a  wise  man  to  pass  the  res- 
idue of  life — though  it  should  hold  out  half  a  cen- 
tury, upon  the  summit  of  a  column,  exposed,  like 
a  bronze,  to  the  changes  of  day  and  night,  of  sum- 
mer and  winter;*  or  to  stand  speechless  and  fixed 
with  the  arms  extended  until  the  joints  should 
stiffen,  and  the  tongue  forget  its  office;  or  to  in- 
habit a  tomb,  or  to  hang  suspended  in  the  air  by  a 
hook  in  the  side — these,  and  if  there  be  any  other 

"  The  story  of  Symeon  Stylites,  told  by  Theodoret,  has  been  often  re- 
peated. The  well-attested  exploits  of  the  fanatics  of  India  render  this 
and  many  similar  accounts  related  by  the  same  writer,  by  Gregory  Nys- 
sen,  Sozomen,  &c.  perfectly  credible  in  all  but  a  few  of  the  particulars; 
and  in  these  it  is  evident  that  the  writers  above  named  were  imposed 
upon.  The  fasts  professed  to  have  been  undergone  by  Symeon,  by  An- 
tony, and  by  others  of  the  same  class,  most  certainly  surpass  the  powers 
of  human  nature,  and  must  be  held  to  convict  these  monks  and  their 
accomplices  of  fraud, 


210  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

practices  still  more  horrifying  to  humanity,  were 
doubtless  wise,  if,  in  the  use  of  them,  the  soul  might 
be  advantaged;  for  the  soul  is  of  infinitely  greater 
value  than  the  body. 

And  much  more  might  it  be  deemed  lawful  and 
commendable  to  refrain  from  matrimony — to  with- 
draw from  human  society — to  be  clad  in  sackcloth 
— to  inhabit  a  cavern,  if  such  comparatively  mod- 
erate abstinences  and  mortifications  were  found  to 
promote  virtue,  and  so  to  ensure  an  enhancement 
of  the  bliss  that  never  ends.  Conduct  of  this  sort, 
however  painful  it  may  be,  is  perfectly  in  harmony 
with  the  principle  universally  admitted  to  be  reason- 
able, and  in  fact  very  commonly  reduced  to  prac- 
tice, namely,  to  endure  a  smaller  immediate  loss  or 
inconvenience,  for  the  sake  of  securing  a  greater 
future  good. 

The  dictates  of  self-interest  every  day  prompt 
sacrifices  of  this  kind;  and  the  maxims  of  natural 
virtue  go  much  further,  and  often  require  a  man  to 
make  the  greatest  deposit  possible,  even  when  the 
future  advantage  is  doubtful,  and  when  the  sufferer 
is  not  the  party  who  is  to  reap  the  expected  benefit. 
On  this  principle  the  soldier  places  himself  at  the 
cannon's  mouth,  because  the  safety  or  future  wel- 
fare of  his  country  can  be  purchased  at  no  other 
price.  On  this  principle  a  pious  son  denies  the 
wishes  of  his  heart,  and  remains  unmarried,  that  he 
may  sustain  a  helpless  parent.  Christianity  is  not, 
therefore,  at  all  peculiar  in  asserting  the  claims  of 
higher,  over  lower  reasons  of  conduct,  in  particular 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  211 

circumstances:  or  in  demanding  that,  on  special 
occasions,  the  enjoyments  of  life,  and  life  itself, 
should  be  held  cheap,  or  abandoned. 

Our  Lord  and  his  ministers  explicitly  enjoined 
such  sacrifices,  whenever  the  interests  of  the  present 
and  of  the   future  life  came  in  competition:   And 
themselves  set  the  example  of  the  self-denial  which 
they  recommended.     Nothing  can  be  more    clear 
than  the  rule  of  bodily  sacrifice  maintained  and  ex- 
emplified in  the  New  Testament;*   and  this  rule  is 
in  perfect  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  common 
sense,  and  with  the  common  practice  of  mankind. — 
Fasting,  celibacy,  martyrdom,  and  such  like  contra- 
rieties to  the  "will  of  the  flesh,"  stand   all  on   the 
same  ground  in   the    system  of  Christian   morals; 
they  are  ills  which  a  wise  and  pious  man  will  cheer- 
fully endure  whenever  he  is  so  placed  that  they  can- 
not be   avoided   without  damage  or  hazard  to  the 
soul.     But  when  no  such  alternative  is  presented, 
then  the  voluntary  infliction   becomes,  as  well  in 
religious  as  in  secular  affairs,  a  folly,  an  impiety, 
and  often  a  crime.     To  die  without  necessity,  or  to 
afflict   oneself  without  reason,    is  not  only  an   ab- 
surdity, but  a  sin. 

*  Matt.  V.  29,  and  xviii.  8.  The  same  principle,  in  its  application  to 
the  conduct  of  Christians  towards  others,  is  explained  and  illustrated  by 
St.  Paul  with  the  utmost  perspicuity,  and  in  a  style  directly  at  variance 
with  that  of  the  Monkish  writers.  ;See  Rom.  xiv.  Iflroughout,  and  1  Cor. 
vii.,  and  viii.  13.  To  relinquish  the  less  for  the  greater — to  prefer  the  soul 
to  the  body— the  future  to  the  present,  is  the  substance  of  all  these  Scrip- 
ture precepts. 


212  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

And  how  immensely  is  this  folly  and  immorality 
aggravated  when  it  is  found  that  the  voluntary  suffer- 
ing, instead  of  being  simply  useless,  becomes,  in  its 
consequences,  highly  pernicious;  when,  by  abundant 
evidence,  it  is  proved  to  generate  the  very  worst  cor- 
ruptions and  perversions  to  which  human  nature  is 
liable!  Such  clearly  are  the  inflictions  of  the  monas- 
tic life — the  solitude,  the  abstinence,  the  celibacy, 
the  poverty! 

The  rule  of  Christian  martyrdom  is  precise  and 
unequivocal,*  and  is  such  as  absolutely  to  exclude 
every  sort  of  spontaneous  heroism.  The  motive  also 
by  which  the  Christian  should  be  sustained  is  of  a 
heart-affecting,  not  of  an  exciting  kind;  and  the 
style  of  the  Apostles,  when  alluding  to  this  subject, 
is  singularly  sedate  and  reserved;  nor  is  an  idea  in- 
troduced of  a  kind  to  inflame  fanatical  ambition. 
The  reason  of  this  caution  is  obvious;  for  to  have 
kindled  the  enthusiasm  of  martyrdom  would  have 
been  to  nullify  the  demonstration  intended  to  be 
given  to  the  world  of  the  truth  of  Christianity.     So 

*  Matth.  X.  23.  The  First  Epistle  of  Peter  holds  forth  the  principle  and 
temper  of  Christian  submission  under  persecution  with  a  dignity,  calm- 
ness, pathos,  good  sense,  and  perfect  freedom  from  fanatical  excitement, 
which,  if  no  other  document  of  our  faith  were  extant,  would  fully  carry 
the  proof  of  the  truth  of  Christianity.  Let  the  genuineness  of  that  Epistle 
be  granted,  (and  it  cannot  be  denied,)  and  it  will  be  impossible  to  recon- 
cile it  with  any  supposition  but  that  of  the  reality  of  the  facts  to  which  it 
refers.  It  would  be  well  if,  in  the  argument  with  infidels,  some  single  por- 
tion of  the  evidence — such,  for  example,  as  this  Epistle — were  adhered  to 
pertinaciously,  until  the  proof  it  contains  were  satisfactorily  disposed  of- 
There  is  not  a  column  of  the  Apostolic  Epistles,  that  would  not  amply 
suffice  for  the  refutation  of  all  the  tomes  of  ancient  and  modern  scepti- 
cism. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM. 


2l3 


long  as  martyrdom  rested  on  the  primitive  basis — 
and  it  rested  there,  with  few  exceptions,*  until  mi- 
raculous attestations  had  nearly  ceased  to  be  afFord- 
ed — it  yielded  conclusive  proof  of  the  reality  of  the 
facts  affirmed  by  the  confessors.  That  is  to  say,  so 
long  as  the  Christians  suffered  only  when  suffering 
could  be  avoided  in  no  other  way  than  by  denying 
their  profession,  and  so  long  as  they  endured  tor- 
tures, and  met  death,  in  a  spirit  not  raised  above  a 
calm  courage,  or  even  displayed  timidity  or  reluc- 
tance, such  sufferings  afforded  direct  demonstration 
of  the  sincerity  of  their  belief;  and  they  having  been 
eye-witnesses  of  supernatural  interpositions,  and 
being  often  the  very  agents  of  miraculous  power, 
their  sincere  belief,  their  honesty,  carried  with  it 
the  proof  of  the  facts  so  attested. 

But  when,  at  a  later  time,  martyrdom  was  court- 
ed in  a  spirit  of  false  heroism,  and  came  to  be  en- 
dured in  a  corresponding  style  of  enthusiastic    ex- 

*  Ignatius  must  be  held  to  have  set  an  example  of  unhappy  conse- 
quence to  the  Church.  His  ardor  for  martyrdom,  though  unquestionably 
connected  with  genuine  and  exalted  piety,  was  altogether  unwarranted 
by  apostolic  precept  or  example,  and  stands  in  the  strongest  contrast 
imaginable  with  the  manner  of  Paul,  when  placed  in  similar  circumstances, 
whose  calm,  manly,  and  spirited  defence  of  his  life,  libert}',  and  immu- 
nities, on  every  occasion,  imparts  the  highest  possible  argumentative  value 
to  his  sufferings  in  the  cause  of  Christianity.  Let  it  be  imagined  that  Ig- 
natius had  acquitted  himself  in  the  same  spirit;  had  pleaded  with  Trajan 
for  his  life,  on  the  grounds  of  universal  justice,  and  Roman  law;  had  es- 
tablished his  innocence  of  any  crime  known  to  the  law;  and  had  then 
professed  distinctly  the  reasons  of  his  Christian  profession,  and  at  the 
same  time  calmly  declared  his  determination  to  die  rather  than  deny  his 
convictions.  How  precious  a  document  would  have  been  the  narrative 
of  such  a  martyrdom! 

19 


214  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

citement,  it  lost  almost  the  whole  of  its  value  as 
a  proof  of  the  truth  of  Christianity.  For  it  is  well 
known  to  be  within  the  compass  of  human  nature 
to  endure  unmoved  and  exultingly  the  most  extreme 
torments  in  fanatical  adherence  to  a  religious  tenet; 
and  such  sufferings  evince  nothing  more  than  the 
firmness  or  the  infatuation  of  the  victim.  On  the 
contrary,  when  the  confessor  has  fallen  into  the 
hands  of  persecuting  power  by  no  imprudence  or__ 
temerity  of  his  own — when  he  avails  himself,  with 
promptitude  and  calmness,  of  every  legal  and  hon- 
orable means  of  self-defence  or  escape — when  he 
pleads  truth  and  right  in  arrest  of  judgment,  and  at 
last  yields  to  the  stroke  because  nothing  could  avert 
it  but  the  forfeiture  of  conscience,  then  it  is  mani- 
fest that  a  deliberate  conviction  is  the  real  motive  of 
his  conduct;  and  then  also,  if  he  have  a  primary 
knowledge  of  the  facts  for  affirming  which  he  dies, 
his  death,  on  the  surest  principles  of  evidence,  must 
be  accepted  as  containing  incontestible  proof  of 
those  facts. 

The  recluses  were  not  the  first  to  spoil  the  primi- 
tive practice  of  martyrdom;  but  their  principles 
greatly  cherished  the  abuse  when  once  it  had  been 
introduced:  and  still  more  did  their  conduct  and 
their  writings  enhance  the  pernicious  superstitions 
which  presently  resulted  from  the  foolish  respect 
paid  to  the  tombs  and  relics  of  confessors.  These 
trivial  and  idolatrous  reverences  of  human  heroism 
can  find  no  room  of  entrance  until  the  great  reali- 
ties of  Christianity  have  been  forgotten;  until  the 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  215 

humbling  and  peace-giving  doctrine  of  atonement 
has  been  lost  sight  of.  The  contrite  heart,  made 
glad  by  the  assurance  of  pardon  through  the  merit 
of  Him,  who  alone  has  merit  supererogatory,  neither 
admits  sentiments  of  vain  glory  for  itself,  nor  is 
prone  to  yield  excessive  worship  to  the  deeds  of 
others.* 

Celibacy,  though  it  may  seem  to  be  a  kind  of 
self-devotion,  less  extreme  than  voluntary  martyr- 
dom, was  in  fact  a  much  greater  and  a  much  worse 
outrage  upon  human  nature.  It  is  the  fundamental 
article  of  the  monkish  system;  and  had  evidently 
two  distinct  motives:  the  first,  and  probably  the 
originating  cause  of  this  extraordinary  practice  was 
the  impracticability  of  uniting  the  pleasures  of  se- 
clusion and  lazy  meditation  with  the  duties  and 
burdens  of  domestic  life.  The  alternative  was  un- 
avoidable, either  to  renour.ce  the  happiness  and  thd 
cares  of  husband  and  father,  or  the  spiritual  luxuries 
of  supine  contemplation.  The  one  species  of  en- 
joyment offered  itself  precisely  as  the  price  that 
must  be  paid  for  obtaining  the  other. f 

*  It  deserves  particular  notice  that  the  martyrs  of  the  Reformation  in 
England,  France,  Spain,  and  Italy,  with  very  few  exceptions,  suiTered  in 
a  spirit  incomparably  more  sedate,  and  more  nearly  allied  to  that  display- 
ed and  recommended  by  the  Apostles,  than  did  the  Christians,  generally, 
of  the  third  century.  These  modern  confessors  understood  die  capital 
doctrine  of  Christianity  much  more  fully  and  clearly  than  did  those  of 
the  age  of  Origen. 

t  In  the  only  places  in  the  New  Testament  where  celibacy  is  recom- 
mended, Matth.  xix.  12,  and  1  Cor.  vii.  .32,  the  reason  is  of  this  substan- 
tial and  intelligible  kind,  nanlely,  that  in  the  case  oi  individuals,  placed  in 


216  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

The  second  motive  of  monkish  celibacy,  and 
which  so  gained  ascendancy  over  the  first  as  to  keep 
it  almost  wholly  out  of  sight,  sprung  more  immedi- 
ately from  the  centre  illusion  of  the  system;  and  the 
real  nature  of  that  illusion  stands  forwards  in  this 
instance  in  a  very  distinct  and  prehensible  form. 
The  very  germ  of  that  transmuted  piety,  which,  in 
the  end,  banished  true  religion  from  the  Church, 
may  readily  be  brought  under  inspection  by  tracing 
the  natural  history  of  the  sentiment  that  attributes 
sanctity  to  single  life. 

For  reasons  that  are  obvious  and  highly  important, 
a  sentiment  of  pudicity,  which  can  never  be  thrown 
aside  without  reducing  man  to  the  level — nay, 
mucii  below  the  level  of  the  brutes,  belongs  to 
the  primary  link  of  the  social  system.  But  this  feel- 
ing, necessary  as  it  is  to  the  purity  and  the  dignity 
of  social  life,  suggests,  by  a  close  and  easy  affinity 
of  ideas,  the  supposition  of  guilt  as  belonging  to 
indulgence,  and  then  the  correlative  supposition  of 
innocence,  or  of  holiness,  as  belonging  to  conti- 
nence. Nevertheless,  feelings  of  this  sort,  when 
analysed,  will  be  found  to  have  their  seat  in  the  im- 
agination exclusively,  and  only  by  accident  to  impli- 
cate the  moral  sense.     They  belong  to  that  class  of 

peculiar  circumstances,  a  sing-le  life  would  be  advantageous,  inasmuch  as 
itwouldgise  them  better  opportunity  of  serving  the  Lord  without  dis- 
traction. Precisely  the  same  advice  might  sometimes  with  propriety  be 
given  to  a  soldier,  or  to  p  statesman:  a  high  motive  justifies  a  sacrifice  of 
personal  happiness.  No  where  in  the  discourses  of  our  Lord,  or  in  the 
writings  of  the  Apostles,  is  there  to  be  discovereda  trace  of  the  monkish 
motive  of  celibacy— namely,  the  supposed  sanctity  of  that  state. 

0 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  217 

natural  illusions,  which,  in  the  combination  of  the 
various  and  discordant  ingredients  of  human  nature, 
serve  to  blend  and  amalgamate  what  would  other- 
wise be  utterly  imcompatible.  Among  all  the  nat- 
ural illusions, or  as  they  might  be  termed,  the  pseudo- 
moral  sentiments,  there  is  not  one  which  so  nearly 
resembles  the  genuine  sense  of  right  and  wrong 
as  this,  or  one  that  is  so  intimately  blended  with 
them. 

It  is  then  easy  to  perceive  the  process  by  which 
infirm  minds  passed  into  the  error  of  attributing 
sanctity  to  celibacy.  But  the  law  of  Christian  purity 
knows  of  no  such  confusion  of  ideas.  The  very 
same  authority  which  forbids  adultery,  enjoins  mar- 
riage: and  so  long  as  morality  is  understood  to  con- 
sist in  obedience  to  the  declared  will  of  God,  it  can 
never  be  imagined  that  a  man  is  defiled  by  living  in 
matrimony,  any  more  than  by  "eating  with  unwashen 
hands."  But  when  once  religion  has  passed  into 
the  imagination,  and  when  the  sentiments  which 
have  their  seat  in  that  faculty  have  become  pre- 
dominant, so  as  to  crush  or  enfeeble  those  that  be- 
long to  conscience,  then  is  it  inevitable  that  the  true 
purity  which  consists  in  "keeping  the  command- 
ments," should  be  supplanted  by  that  artificial  holi- 
ness which  is  a  mere  refinement  upon  natural  in- 
stincts. Under  the  influence  of  false  notions  of 
this  sort,  nothing  seems  so  saintly  as  for  a  man  to 
shrink  horrifically  from  the  touch  of  woman;  nothing 
scarcely  so  spiritually  degrading  as  to  be  a  husband 
19* 


218  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

and  a  father.*  Impious  and  mad  enthusiasm: — and 
not  only  irreligious  and  absurd,  but  pestilent  also; 
for  this  same  monkish  doctrine  of  the  merit  of  vir- 
ginity stands  convicted,  on  abundant  evidence,  of 
having  transplanted  the  worst  vices  of  polytheistic 
Greece  into  the  very  sanctuaries  of  religion;  and  so, 
of  infecting  the  nations  of  modern  Europe  with 
crimes  which,  had  they  not  been  kept  alive  in  mon- 
asteries, Christianity  would  long  ago  have  banished 
from  the  earth. 

How  little  did  the  pious  men,  who,  in  the  third 
century,  extolled  the  merit  of  mortification,  and  petty 
torture,  and  celibacy,  think  of  the  hideous  corrup- 
tions in  which  these  practices  were  to  terminate!  A 
sagacity  more  than  human  was  needed  to  foresee 
the  end  from  the  beginning.  But  with  the  experi- 
ence of  past  ages  before  us,  we  may  well  learn  to 

*  "Grande  est  et  immortale,  poene  ultra  naturam  corpoream,  superare 
luxuriam,  et  concupiscentiae  spasmeam  adolescentis  facibus  accensam 
animi  virtute  restringuere,  et  spiritali  conatu  vim  genuinEe  oblectationis 
excludere,  vivereque  contra  humani  generis  legem,  despicere  solatia  con- 
jugii,  dulcedinem  contemnere  liberorum,  qusecumque  esse  prsesentis 
vitse  commoda  possint,  pro  nihilo  spe  fiUurorum  beatitudinis  computare." 
The  Epistle  of  Sulpiiius,  de  Virginitate,  in  which  this  passage  occurs, 
contains,  it  should  be  confessed,  much  more  good  sense  and  good  moral- 
ity, in  the  latter  part  of  it,  than  one  would  expect  to  find  in  conjunction 
with  absurdities  such  as  that  above  quoted.  The  annotator  on  the 
passage  well  says,  that  "the  Ascetics  avoided  the  pleasure  of  domes- 
tic life  not  because  they  were  sweets,  but  because  conjoined  with  great 
cares,  which  those  escaped  who  lived  in  celibacy.  Nor  is  it  to  be  de- 
nied that  married  life  is  obnoxious  to  great  and  heavy  inconveniences:  nev- 
ertheless, if  under  those  difficulties  we  live  holily  and  religiously,  our 
future  recompense  will  surely  not  be  less  than  as  if,  to  be  free  from  them, 
we  had  embraced  a  single  life." 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  219 

distrust  all  specious  attempts  to  exaggerate  morality, 
or  to  attach  ideas  of  blame  to  things  innocent  or  indif- 
ferent. This  over-doing  of  virtue  inevitably  diverts 
the  mind  from  what  is  substantially  good,  and  is 
moreover  the  almost  invariable  symptom  of  a  trans- 
muted or  fictitious  pietism. 

II.  The  ancient  monkery  was  a  system  of  the 
most  deliberate  selfishness.  The  feeling  of  solici- 
tude for  individual  interests,  that  forms  the  basis  of 
the  human  constitution,  is  so  broken  up  and  coun- 
teracted by  the  claims  and  pleasures  of  domestic 
life,  that  though  the  principle  remains,  its  manifesta- 
tions are  suppressed,  and  its  predominance  effect- 
ually prevented,  except  in  some  few  tempers  pecu- 
liarly unsocial.  But  the  anchoret  is  a  selfist  by  his 
very  profession;  and  like  the  sensualist,  though  his 
taste  is  of  another  kind,  he  pursues  his  personal 
gratifications,  reckless  of  the  welfare  of  others. 
His  own  advantage  or  delight,  or,  to  use  his  favorite 
phrase — the  good  of  his  soul,  is  the  sovereign  object 
of  his  cares.  His  meditations,  even  if  they  embrace 
the  compass  of  heaven,  come  round,  ever  and  again, 
to  find  their  ultimate  issue  in  his  own  bosom:  but 
can  that  be  true  wisdom  which  just  ends  at  the 
point  whence  it  started?  True  wisdom  is  an  emana- 
tive  principle.  In  abjuring  the  use  of  the  active 
faculties,  in  reducing  himself,  by  the  spell  of  vows, 
to  a  condition  of  physical  and  moral  annihilation, 
he  says  to  his  fellows,  concerning  whatever  might 
otherwise  have  been  converted  to  their  benefit — "it 


220  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

is  corban;"  thus  making  void  the  law  of  love  to 
our  neighbor,  by  a  pretended  intensity  of  love  to 
God. 

That  so  monstrous  an  immorality  should  have 
dared  to  call  itself  by  the  name  of  sanctity,  and 
should  do  so  too  in  front  of  Christianity,  is  indeed 
amazing,  and  could  never  have  happened  if  Chris- 
tianity had  not  first  been  shorn  of  its  life-giving 
warmth,  as  the  sun  is  deprived  of  its  power  of  heat 
when  we  ascend  into  the  rarity  of  upper  space. 
The  tendency  of  a  taste  for  imaginative  indulgences 
to  petrify  the  heart  has  been  already  adverted  to; 
and  it  receives  a  signal  illustration  in  the  monkish 
life,  especially  in  its  more  perfect  form  of  absolute 
separation  from  the  society  of  man.  The  anchoret 
was  a  disjoined  particle,  frozen  deep  into  the  mass 
of  his  own  selfishness,  and  there  imbedded  below 
the  touch  of  every  human  sympathy.  This  sort  of 
meditative  insulation  is  the  ultimate  and  natural  is- 
sue of  all  enthusiastic  piety;  and  may  be  met  with 
even  in  our  own  times  among  those  who  have  no  in- 
clination to  run  away  from  the  comforts  of  common 
life. 

III.  Spiritual  pride,  the  most  repulsive  of  the 
religious  vices,  was  both  a  main  cause  and  a  princi- 
pal eftect  of  the  ancient  monachism. 

The  particular  manner  in  which  this  odious  pride 
sprung  up  in  the  monastery  deserves  especial  atten- 
tion. That  sort  of  plain  and  practical  religion  which 
adapts  itself  to  the  circumstances  of  common  life — 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  221 

the  religion  taught  by  the  Apostles — a  religion  of 
love,  sobriety,  temperance,  justice,  fit  for  the  use  of 
master  and  servant,  of  husband  and  wife,  of  parent 
and  child,  by  no  means  satisfied  the  wishes  of  those 
who  sought  in  Christianity  a  delicious  dream  of  un- 
earthly excitements.  It  was  therefore  indispensable 
to  imagine  a  new  style  of  religion;  and  hence  arose 
the  doctrine,  so  warmly  and  incessantly  advanced  by 
the  early  favorers  of  monkery — that  our  Lord  and 
his  apostles  taught  a  two-fold  piety,  and  recognized 
an  upper  and  an  under  class  in  the  church,  and  sanc- 
tioned the  division  of  the  Christian  body  into  what 
might  be  termed  a  Plebian,  and  a  Patrician  order.* 
In  accordance  with  this  arrogant  pretension  it  was 
believed,  that  while  the  Christian  commonality  might 
be  left  to  wallow  in  the  affairs  of  common  life — in 
business,  matrimony,  and  such  like  impurities — the 
elect  of  Christ  stood  on  a  platform,  high-lifted  above 
the  grossness  of  secular  engagements  and  earthly 
passions,  and  were,  in  their  Lord's  esteem,  immense- 

*  This  doctrine  appears  more  or  less  distinctly  in  every  one  of  the  fath- 
ers who  at  all  favors  the  monastic  life.  It  may  seem  to  bear  analogy  to 
the  principle  of  the  Grecian  philosophers  who  had  their  common  maxims 
for  the  vulgar,  and  their  hidden  instructions  for  the  few.  But  the  resem- 
blance is  more  apparent  than  real;  the  distinction  arose  among  the  Chris- 
tians from  altogether  another  source.  The  Church,  that  is  to  say  the  collec- 
tive body  of  true  believers,  is  called  in  the  New  Testament  the  spouse  of 
Christ;  but  the  monks  perverted  the  figure  by  using  it  distinctively,  by 
calling  individual  Christians  "the  brides  of  Christ,"  and  by  appropriating 
the  honor  to  those  who  had  taken  the  vow  of  celibacy.  The  most  absurd 
and  impious  abuses  of  language  presently  followed  from  this  error,  and 
such  as  it  were  even  blasphemous  to  repeat.  Jerom,  Basil,  Ambrose,  are 
evidently  charmed  with  these  irreligious  conceits. 


222  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

ly  more  holy,  and  higher  in  rank,  as  candidates  for 
the  honors  of  the  future  life,  than  the  mass  of  the 
faithful.  When  this  supposition  became  generally 
adopted  and  assented  to,  out  of  the  monastery  as 
well  as  within  it,  the  first  and  natural  consequence 
was  a  great  depreciation  of  the  standard  of  morals 
among  the  people.  If  there  were  admitted  to  be 
two  rates  or  degrees  of  virtue,  there  were,  of  course 
two  laws  or  rules  of  life:  whatever  therefore  in  the 
Scriptures  seemed  to  be  strict,  or  pure,  or  elevated, 
was  assigned  to  the  upper  code;  while  the  lower 
took  to  itself  only  what  wore  an  aspect  of  laxity  and 
indulgence.  Even  an  attempt  on  the  part  of  secu- 
lar Christians  to  make  advances  in  holiness  might  be 
condemned  as  a  species  of  presumption,  or  as  an 
invasion  of  the  proprieties  of  the  saintly  order. 
Heavenly  mindedness  and  purity  of  heart  were  char- 
tered to  the  regulars — the  monopolists  of  perfect 

grauc*  .iiuj.  vU.'.  IIIU  [JllYl.wj^w^j  oiiuuiu  iia»c  avail- 
ed themselves  so  moderately  of  their  rights! 

A  second,  and  not  less  natural  consequence  of  the 
same  principle,  was  the  formation  among  the  monks, 
either  of  an  insufferable  arrogance  and  self-compla- 
cency; or  of  a  villanous  hypocrisy — an  hypocrisy 
which  qualified  those  who  sustained  it  to  become 
the  agents  of  every  detestable  knavery  that  might 
promote  the  ambitious  machinations,  or  screen  the 
debaucheries  of  the  order. 

If  a  reputation  for  superior  sanctity  be  ever  safe 
and  serviceable  to  a  Christian,  it  must  be  when  his 
conduct  and  temper,  even  to  the  inmost  privacies  of 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  223 

domestic  life,  are  open  to  indifferent  observers; — 
not  to  the  cringing  servitors  of  a  religious  establish- 
ment, or  to  the  holy  man's  hangers-on,  and  accom- 
plices, but  to  the  children  and  the  servants  of  a  fam- 
ily:— the  moral  vision  of  a  child  is  especially  quick 
and  clear.  He  who  thus  lives  under  the  eye  of 
witnesses  not  to  be  deceived,  and  not  to  be  bribed, 
may  actually  demean  himself  the  better  for  being 
reputed  eminently  good.  Not  so  the  man  who  in- 
habits a  den  or  a  cell — who  is  seen  by  the  world 
only  through  a  loop-hole;  or  who  shows  himself  to 
an  admiring  crowd  when,  and  where,  and  in  what 
manner  he  pleases.  To  such  a  one,  the  praise  of 
sanctity  will  most  often  be  found  inscribed  on  its 
other  side  with  a  license  to  crime.  Under  circum- 
stances so  blasting  to  the  simple  honesty  and  un- 
affected humility  of  true  piety,  almost  the  best  that 
charity  can  imagine  is,  that  the  hooded  saint  de- 
ludes himself  more  than  he  deceives  others. 

Such  are  the  natural  and  almost  invariable  con- 
sequences— in  monasteries,  or  out  of  them — of  all 
ambitious  attempts  to  render  religion  a  something 
too  elevated  and  too  pure  to  be  brought  in  contact 
with  the  affairs  of  common  life.  The  endeavor 
generates  a  pretension  that  can  never  be  filled  out 
by  truth  and  reality:  the  deficiency  must  be  made 
up  by  delusion  and  deception,  the  one  begetting 
arrogance,  the  other  knavery. 

IV.  Greediness  of  the  supernatural  formed  an 
essential  characteristic  of  the  ancient  monachism. 


224  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

The  cares  and  toils  and  necessities,  the  refresh- 
ments and  delights  of  common  life,  are  the  great 
teachers  of  common  sense;  nor  can  there  be  any 
effective  school  of  sober  reason  where  these  are  ex- 
cluded. Whoever,  either  by  elevation  of  rank,  or 
peculiarity  of  habits,  lives  far  removed  from  this  kind 
of  tuition,  rarely  makes  much  proficiency  in  that 
excellent  quality  of  the  intellect.  A  man  who  has 
little  or  nothing  to  do  with  other  men  on  terms  of 
open  and  free  equality,  needs  the  native  sense  of 
five  to  behave  himself  only  with  a  fair  average  of 
propriety.  Absolute  solitude  (and  seclusion  in  its 
degree)  necessitates  a  lapse  into  some  species  of 
absurdity  more  or  less  nearly  allied  to  insanity, 
and  religious  solitude  naturally  strays  into  the  re- 
gions of  vision  and  miracle. 

The  monastery  was  at  once  the  place  where  the 
illusions  of  distempered  brains  were  the  most  likely 
to  abound,  and  where  the  frauds  which  naturally  fol- 
low in  the  train  of  such  illusions  were  the  most  con- 
veniently hatched  and  executed.  Those  dungeons 
of  dimness,  of  silence,  of  absolute  obedience;  those 
scenes  of  nocturnal  ceremony;  those  labyrinths  of 
subterrene  communication;  those  nurseries  of  craft 
and  credulity,  seemed  as  if  constructed  for  the  very 
purpose  of  fabricating  miracles:  and,  in  fact,  if 
all  the  narratives  of  supernatural  occurrences  that 
are  found  upon  the  pages  of  the  ancient  church- 
writers  were  numbered,  incomparably  the  larger 
proportion  would  appear  to  have  been  immediately 
connected  with  the  religious  houses.     The  wonder 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  225 

which  goes  to  swell  the  vaunted  achievements  of 
the  sainted  abbot  or  brother,  was  effected — in  the 
cell — in  the  chapel  or  church — in  the  convent-gar- 
den— in  the  depths  of  the  overhanging  forest,  or 
upon  the  solitude  of  the  neighboring  shore.  Of  all 
such  miracles  it  is  enough  to  say  that,  whether  gen- 
uine or  not,  they  can  claim  no  respect  from  poster- 
ity, seeing  that  they  stand  not  within  the  circle  of 
credible  testimony.  History — lover  of  simplicity, 
scorns  to  place  them  on  her  page  in  any  other  form 
than  as  evidences  of  the  credulity,  if  not  of  the  dis- 
honesty of  the  times!* 

The  miraculous  powers  existing  in  the  Church 
after  the  apostolic  age,  rest  under  a  cloud  that  is  not 
now  to  be  thoroughly  dispelled.  But  with  safety 
the  following  propositions  may  be  affirmed; — first, 
That  the  Christian  doctrine  received  some  miracu- 


*  Many  laborious  and  voluminous  discussions  might  have  been  saved, 
if  the  simple  and  very  reasonable  rule  had  been  adopted  of  waving  in- 
vestigation into  the  credibility  of  any  narrative  of  supernatural  or  pretended 
supernatural  events,  said  to  have  taken  place  upon  consecrated  ground, 
or  under  sacred  roofs.  Fanes,  caves,  groves,  churches,  convents,  cells, 
are  places  in  which  the  lover  of  history  will  make  but  a  transient  stay: 
he  may  easily  find  better  employment  than  in  sifting  the  evidence  on 
which  rest  such  stories  as  that  of  the  roof-descended  oil,  used  at  the  bap- 
tism of  Clovis;  or  that  of  the  relics  discovered  by  Ambrose  for  the  con- 
futation of  royal  error,  (Aug.  Conf.  lib.  ix.  cap.  7;)  and  a  thousand  others 
of  like  nature.  Those  who  read  church  history  cursorily,  and  are  per- 
haps perplexed  by  the  frequency  of  suspicious  miracle,  are  not  aware, 
generally,  how  very  large  a  proportion  of  all  such  annoying  relations  may 
be  readily  and  reasonably  disposed  of  by  adhering  to  the  rule  above 
stated.  Another  rule,  presently  to  be  mentioned,  and  not  less  well  found- 
ed, discharges  again  a  large  portion  of  all  that  remains  after  application 
of  the  first. 

20 


226  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

lous  attestations  after  the  death  of  the  apostles; — 
secondly,  That  so  early  as  the  close  of  the  fourth 
century,  fraudulent  or  deceptive  pretensions  to  mi- 
raculous power  were  very  frequently  advanced; — 
and,  lastly.  That  at  that  period,  and  subsequently, 
there  are  instances,  not  a  few,  of  a  certain  sort  of 
sincerity,  and  of  fervor  in  religion,  conjoined  with 
very  exceptionable  attempts  to  acquire  a  Thaumat- 
urgal  reputation.*  These  deplorable  cases  deserve 
particular  attention,  especially  as  they  show  what 
are  the  natural  fruits  of  fictitious  pietism. — 

If  we  choose  to  read  the  Church  history  of  the 
fourth  and  fifth  centuries  in  the  spirit  of  frigid  and 
purblind  scepticism,  all  the  toil  and  perplexity  that 
belong  to  the  exercise  of  cautious  and  candid  dis- 
crimination will  be  at  once  saved;  and  we  shall,  in 
every  instance  where  supernatural  interposition  is 
alleged,  whatever  may  be  the  quality  of  the  evi- 
dence, or  the  character  of  the  facts,  take  up  that 
vulgar  and  obvious  explanation  which  is  offered,  by 
attributing  a  greedy  credulity  to  the  laity  of  those 
times,  and  a  villanous  and  shameless  knavery  to  the 

*  Gregory  of  Neocsesarea,  commonly  called  Thaumaturgus,  ought  not 
to  be  involved  in  an  accusation  of  this  kind,  for  two  reasons;  first,  because 
the  incidental  evidence  which  attests  his  having  in  truth  possessed  mirac- 
ulous powers  is  strong;  and,  secondly,  because  the  only  complete  narra- 
tire  that  has  come  down  to  us  of  his  miracles — that  composed  by  Gregory 
Nyssen — is  scarcely  worthy  o  f  serious  regard,  as  an  historical  document 
not  only  on  account  of  its  suspicious  character,  but  because  it  was  wTitten 
a  century  after  the  death  of  the  great  and  good  man  whom  it  labors  to 
celebrate  and  really  vilifies.  See  the  Life  of  Gregory  Thaumag.  in  the 
Works  of  Greg.  Nys.     Paris  ed.    Vol.  III.  p.  534. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  227 

clergy.  But  this  short  and  clumsy  method,  how 
satisfactory  soever  it  may  be  to  indolence,  or 
how  gratifying  soever  to  malignity,  can  never  ap- 
prove itself  to  those  who  are  at  once  well  informed 
of  facts,  and  accustomed  to  analyze  evidence  with 
precision. — The  compass  of  human  nature  includes 
many  motives — deep,  and  intricate,  of  which  be- 
sotted infidelity  never  dreams,  and  which,  in  its  un- 
observant arrogance  it  can  never  comprehend. 

Long  before  the  time  when  ecclesiastical  narra- 
tives of  supernatural  occurrences  assume  a  character 
decidedly  suspicious,  or  manifestly  faithless,  the 
great  facts  of  Christianity  had,  with  a  large  class  of 
persons — especially  with  the  recluses,  become  the 
object  of  day-dream,  contemplation,  and  formed 
rather  the  furniture  of  a  theatre  of  celestial  machine- 
ry, than  the  exciting  causes  of  simple  faith,  and 
hope,  and  joy.  The  divine  glories — the  brightness 
of  the  future  life — the  history  and  advocacy  of  the 
Mediator — the  agency  of  angels,  and  of  devils, 
were  little  else,  to  many,  than  the  incentives  of  in- 
tellectual intoxication.  When  once  this  misuse  of 
religious  ideas  had  gained  possession  of  the  mind, 
it  brought  with  it  an  irresistible  prurience,  asking 
for  the  marvellous,  just  as  voluptuousness  asks  for  the 
aliments  of  pleasure.  This  demand  will  be  pecul- 
iarly importunate  among  those  who  have  to  uphold 
their  faith  in  the  front  of  a  gainsaying  world. 

The  first  step  towards  the  pseudo-miraculous  is 
taken  without  doing  any  violence  to  conscience, 
and  little  even  to  good  sense;  provided  that  opinions 


228  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

of  a  favoring  kind  are  generally  prevalent.  Good, 
and  even  judicious  men,  might  be  so  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  imagination  as  to  have  their  sleep 
hurried  with  visions,  and  their  waking  meditations 
quickened  by  unearthly  voices;  and  might  compla- 
cently report  such  celestial  favors  to  greedy  hearers, 
without  a  particle  of  dislionest  consciousness.* 
Thus  the  taste  for  things  extraordinary  was  at  once 
cherished  and  powerfully  sanctioned  by  the  exam- 
ple of  men  eminently  wise  and  holy.  Then  with  an 
inferior  class  of  men  the  progression  from  illusions 
— real  and  complete,  to  such  as  were  in  part  aided 
by  a  little  spontaneity  and  contrivance,  and  which, 
though  somewhat  unsatisfactory  to  the  narrator, 
were  devoured  without  scruple  by  the  hearer,  could 
not  be  difficult.     The  temptation  to  produce  a  com- 


*  The  two  signal  instances  may  be  mentioned  of  Cyprian  and  Augus- 
tine, men  whose  thorough  honesty  and  sincerity  will  not  be  questioned  by 
any  one  who  himself  possesses  the  sympathies  of  virtue  and  integrity. 
They  were  both  carried  by  the  spirit  of  their  times  almost  to  the  last  stage 
of  credulity  and  self  delusion;  but  the  latter  much  farther  than  the  former. 
While  speaking  of  Cyprian,  a  passage  may  be  quoted  which  confirms 
more  than  one  of  the  statements  advanced  in  the  preceding  pages.  The 
expressions  are  extremely  significant;  they  occur  in  the  exordium  of  the 
tract,  De  Disciplina  et  Habitu  Virginum.  "Nunc  nobis  ad  virgines  sermo 
est,  quarum  quo  sublimior  gloria  est,  major  et  cura  est.  Flos  est  ille  ec- 
clesiastici  germinis,  decus  atque  ornameutum  gratiae  spiritualis,  Iseta  in- 
doles, laudis  et  honoris  opus  integrum,  Dei  imago,  respondens  ad  sancti- 
moniam  Dom'mi,  ili?istrior  portio  gregis  Christi.  Gaudet  per  illas,  atque 
in  illis  largiter  floret  Ecclesise  matris  gloriosa  fecunditas:  quantoque  plus 
copiosa  virginitas  numero  suo  addit,  tanto  plus  gaudium  matris  augescit." 
In  this  eulogy  there  is  not  merely  the  commendation  of  single  life,  but 
very  distinctly  the  doctrine  of  a  two-fold  morality — and  the  recognition  of 
a  patrician  class  in  the  church. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  229 

modity  so  much  in  demand  was  strong — often  too 
strong  for  those  whose  moral  sense  had  been  debili- 
tated by  an  habitual  inebriety  of  the  imagination. 
Another  step  towards  religious  fraud  was  more  ea- 
sily taken  than  avoided,  when  it  was  eagerly  looked 
for  by  open-mouthed  credulity — when  the  Church 
might  cheaply  and  securely  be  glorified,  and  Gen- 
tilism  triumphantly  confuted.  The  plain  ground  of 
Christian  integrity  having  once  been  abandoned, 
the  shocks  of  a  downward  progress  towards  the 
most  reprehensible  extreme  of  deception  were  not 
likely  to  awaken  remorse. 

Practices,  therefore,  which,  viewed  in  their  naked 
merits,  must  excite  the  detestation  of  every  Chris- 
tian mind,  might  insensibly  gain  ground  among 
those  who  were  far  from  deserving  the  gross  desig- 
nation of  thorough  knaves.  They  were  fervent  and 
laborious  in  their  zeal  to  propagate  Christianity; 
they  believed  it  cordially,  and  themselves  hoped  for 
eternal  life  in  their  faith,  and  in  the  strength  of  this 
hope  were  ready  "to  give  their  bodies  to  be  burned." 
They  prayed,  they  watched,  they  fasted,  and  cruci- 
fied the  flesh,  and  did  every  thing  which  an  enthusi- 
astical  intensity  of  feeling  could  prompt^ — and  this 
feeling  prompted  them  to  promote  the  gospel,  as 
well  by  juggling  as  by  preaching. 

But  had  not  these  religious  forgers  read  the  un- 
bending morality  of  the  gospel?  Or,  reading  it, 
was  it  possible  that  they  could  think  the  sacrifice  of 
honesty  an  acceptable  offering  to  the  God  of  truth.^ 
The  difficulty  can  be  solved  only  by  calculating 
*20 


230  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

duly  the  influence  of  imaginative  pietism  in  paralys- 
ing the  conscience;  and  if  the  facts  of  the  case 
seem  to  be  still  hard  to  comprehend,  it  will  be  ne- 
cessary for  illustration  to  recur  to  such  as  may  be 
furnished,  alas!  by  most  Christian  communities  in 
our  own  times.  Is  it  impossible  to  find  individuals 
fervent,  and  in  a  certain  sense  sincere,  in  their  devo- 
tions— zealous  and  liberal  in  their  endeavors  to  dif- 
fuse Christianity,  and,  perhaps,  in  many  respects 
amiable,  who,  nevertheless,  admit  into  their  habitual 
course  of  conduct  some  very  gross  contrarieties  to 
the  plainest  rules  of  Christian  morality?  When  in- 
stances of  this  sort  are  under  discussion,  it  is  alike 
unsatisfactory  to  affirm  of  the  parties  in  question, 
that  they  are,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  term, 
hypocrites;  or  to  grant  that  their  piety  is  genuine, 
but  defective.  The  first  supposition,  though  it  may 
cut  the  difficulty,  does  not  by  any  means  nicely  ac- 
cord with  the  facts;  and  the  second  puts  contempt 
upon  the  most  explicit  and  solemn  declarations  of 
our  Lord  and  his  ministers,  whose  style  of  enforcing 
the  divine  law  will  never  allow  those  who  are  fla- 
grantly vicious — those  who  are  "workers  of  iniquity," 
— to  be  called  "imperfect  Christians." 

Our  alternative  presents  itself  for  the  solution  of 
the  pressing  difficulty.  The  religion  of  these  de- 
linquent professors  is  sincere  in  its  kind,  and  perhaps 
fervent;  but  not  less  fictitious  than  sincere.  Or 
rather  the  religion  they  profess  is  not  Christianity, 
but  an  image  of  it.  Whatever  there  is  in  the  Gos- 
pel that  may  stimulate  emotion  without  breaking  up 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  231 

the  conscience,  has  been  admitted  and  felt;  but  the 
heart  has  not  been  made  "alive  towards  God."  Re- 
pentance has  had  no  force,  the  desire  of  pardon  no 
intensity.  Certain  vices  may  be  shunned  and  repro- 
bated, and  others  as  freely  indulged;  for  nothing  is 
really  inconsistent  with  the  dreams  of  religious  de- 
lusion— except  the  waking  energy  of  true  virtue. 
And  thus  it  was  with  many  in  the  ancient  Church: 
— the  stupendous  objects  of  the  unseen  world  had 
kindled  the  imagination;  and  in  harmony  with  this 
state  of  mind,  a  supernatural  heroism  and  unnatural 
style  of  virtue  were  admired  and  practised,  because 
they  fed  the  flames  of  a  fictitious  happiness  which 
compensated  for  the  renunciation  of  the  pleasures 
of  sense.  In  this  spirit  martyrdom  was  courted,  and 
deserts  were  peopled  until  they  ceased  to  be  soli- 
tudes; and  in  this  spirit  also  miracles  were  affirmed, 
or  fabricated,  not  so  often  by  knaves,  as  by  vision- 
aries. 

The  subject  of  the  suspicious  pretensions  to  mi- 
raculous power  advanced  by  many  of  the  ancient 
Christian  writers  should  not  be  dismissed  without 
remarking,  that  it  is  one  thing  to  compose  a  gaudy 
narrative  [de  virtutibus)  of  the  wonder-working  pow- 
ers of  a  saint,  gone  to  his  rest  in  the  preceding 
century;  and  another  to  be  the  actor  in  scenes  of 
religious  juggling.  If  this  distinction  be  duly  con- 
sidered, a  very  large  mass  of  perplexing  matter  will 
be  at  once  discharged  from  the  page  of  ecclesiasti- 
cal history,  and  that  without  doing  violence  either 
to  charity,  or  to  the  laws  of  evidence.     Some  fool- 


232  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

ish  Presbyter  or  busy  Monk,  gifted  with  a  talent  of 
description,  has  collected  the  church-talcs,  current 
in  his  time,  concerning  a  renowned  father.  The  tur- 
gid biography,  applauded  in  the  monastery  where  it 
was  produced,  slipped  away  silently  to  the  faithful 
of  distant  establishments,  and  without  having  ever 
undergone  that  ordeal  of  real  and  local  publicity 
which  authenticates  common  history,  was  diffused, 
as  it  were,  beneath  the  surface  of  notoriety,  through 
Christendom,  and  so  has  come  down  to  modern  times 
— to  load  the  memory  of  some  good  man  with  un- 
merited disgrace.* 

*  One  important  rule  of  procedure  in  relation  to  the  ancient  narratives 
of  miracle  has  been  just  referred  \.o,note  to  page  229.  A  second  is  to 
quash  all  serious  consideration  of  those  which  exist  only  in  biographies 
composed  in  a  turgid  style  of  laudatory  exaggeration,  and  not  published, 
or  not  fairly  and  fully  published,  till  long  after  the  deaths  of  the  operator, 
and  of  the  witnesses.  An  instance  precisely  in  point  has  already  been  men- 
tioned, namely,  the  life  of  Gregory  of  Neocaesarea,  by  Gregory  Nyssen: 
another  of  like  kind  has  also  here  been  frequently  quoted — the  life  of  St. 
Martin,  by  Sulpitius  Severus:  the  life  of  Cyprian,  by  the  Deacon  Pontius, 
mi^ht  be  included;  and  perhaps  that  of  St.  Antony,  by  Athanasius.  A 
perusal  of  the  last-mentioned  tract,  which  fills  only  some  fifty  or  sixty 
pai^es,  would  convey  a  more  exact  and  vivid  idea  of  the  state  and  style 
of  religion  in  the  fourth  century,  than  is  to  be  obtained  by  reading  volumes 
of  modern  compilations  of  Church  history.  See  Athan.  Op.  Vol.  II.  p. 
790.  (Paris  edition.)  At  once  the  piety  and  the  strong  sense  of  the' 
writer,  and  the  extraordinary  character  of  the  narrative,  give  it  a  peculiar 
claim  to  attention.  Let  the  intelligent  reader  of  this  curious  document 
take  the  occasion  to  estimate  the  value  and  amount  of  the  information  that 
is  to  be  received  from  modern  writers — Mosheim  and  Milner,  for  example, 
of  whom  the  first  gives  the  mere  husk  of  history,  and  the  other  nothing  but 
some  separated  particles  of  pure  farina.  But  can  we  in  either  of  these 
methods  obtain  the  solid  and  safe  instruction  which  a  trn(  knowledge  of 
human  character  and  conduct  should  convey?  It  may  be  very  edifying 
to  read  some  pages  of  picked  sentiments  of  piety;  but  do  these  culled 
portions,  which  actually  belie  the  mass  whence  they  are  taken,  commu- 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  233 

V.  The  practice  of  mystifying  the  Scriptures 
must  be  named  as  an  especial  characteristic  of 
monkish  religion. 

This  practice  was,  in  the  first  place,  the  nat- 
ural fruit  of  a  life  like  that  of  the  recluses:  for 
the  Bible  is  a  directory  of  common  life — the  heav- 
enly enchiridion  of  those  who  are  beset  with  the 
cares,  labors,  sorrows,  and  temptations,  of  the 
world.  To  the  anchoret  it  presents  almost  a  blank 
page:  a  style  of  existence  so  unnatural  as  that  which 
he  has  chosen,  it  does  not  recognize;  his  imagina- 
ry troubles,  his  frivolous  duties,  his  visionary  temp- 
tations, his  self-inflicted  sufferings,  and  his  real 
difficulty  of  maintaining  virtue  under  the  galling  fric- 
tion of  a  presumptuous  vow,  are  all  absolutely  un- 
known to  the  Scriptures,  which  therefore  to  the 
recluse,  are  not  profitable  for  reproof,  or  correction, 
or  for  instruction  in  the  false  righteousness  which 
he  labors  to  establish. 

To  adapt  the  Bible  to  the  cell,  it  must,  of  ne- 
cessity, be  allegorized.  Then  indeed  it  is  made 
inexhaustibly  rich  in  the  materials  of  spiritual  amuse- 
ment. It  was  thus  that  the  Jewish  doctors,  the 
authors  of  the  Talmudical  writings,  found  the  means 
of  diverting  the  heaviness  of  their  leisure:  and  it 
was  thus,  though  in  a  different  style,  that  the  Es- 

nicate  what  an  intelligent  reader  of  history  looks  for — namely,  a  real  pic- 
lure  and  image  of  mankind  in  past  ages?  Certainly  not.  If  nothing  be 
wanted  but  pleasing  expressions  of  Christian  feeling,  there  can  be  no 
need  to  make  a  painful  search  for  them  in  the  bulky  tomes  of  the  Greek 
and  Latin  fathers.  Nevertheless  with  all  its  very  great  defects,  Milner's 
Church  History  is  incomparably  the  best  that  has  ever  been  compiled. 


234  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

senes  of  the  wilderness  of  the  Jordan  wiled  away  the 
hours  of  their  solitude:  and  thus,  yet  again  after 
another  pattern,  the  Christian  monks,  especially 
those  of  Palestine*  and  Egypt,  transmuted  the  words 
of  truth  and  soberness  into  a  tangled  wreath  of 
flimsy  fable. 

The  doctrine  of  a  mystical  sense  has  invariably 
been  espoused  by  every  successive  body  of  idle  re- 
ligionists; that  is  to  say,  by  all  who  spurning  or 
forgetting  the  authority  which  the  Scriptures  assert 
over  the  life  and  conscience,  convert  them  into  the 
materials  of  a  delicious  dream.  The  mask  of  alle- 
gory imposed  on  the  Bible  serves  first  as  a  source 
of  entertainment,  and  then  as  a  shelter  against  the 
plain  meaning  of  all  those  passages  which  directly 
condemn  the  will-worship,  the  fooleries,  and  the 
extravagancies  to  which  persons  of  this  temper  are 
ever  addicted.  So  did  the  Rabbis  make  void  the 
law  of  God;  so  did  the  monks,  so  have  all  classes 
of  modern  mystics; — so  do  modern  Antinomians:  all 
have  asserted  a  double,  a  treble,  or  a  quadruple 
sense; — a  mystery  couched  beneath  every  narrative, 
and  every  exhortation,  or  even  hidden  in  single 
words:  or  they  have  descried  a  profound  doctrine 
packed  in  the  bend  of  a  Samech  or  a  Koph.  Not 
one  of  the  absurdities  of  the  ancient  monkery  has 
been  so  long-lived  as  this:  nor  is  there  to  be  found 

*  Origen,  as  every  one  knows,  led  the  way  in  the  Christian  Church  in 
this  mode  of  interpretation.  It  is  also  well  known  that  the  monks,  espe- 
cially those  of  Alexandria,  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  this  ingenious 
writer  against  the  bishops  and  clergy,  who  as  warmly  condemned  his 
works  as  heretical. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  235 

a  more  certain  symptom  of  the  existence  of  fatal 
illusion  in  matters  of  religion. 


IV.  The  monkish  system  recommended  itself  by 
astonishing  feats  of  devotedness,  and  by  great  profi- 
ciency in  the  practices  of  artificial  and  spontaneous 
virtue.    ^ 

The  motives  of  enthusiasm  are  so  much  more  con- 
gruous with  the  unreformed  impulses  of  human  na- 
ture than  are  the  principles  of  genuine  piety,  that 
the  former  have  usually  far  surpassed  the  latter  in  the 
difficult  and  mortifying  achievements  of  self-denial. 
In  proportion  as  a  system  of  fanaticism  is  remote 
from  truth,  its  stimulating  force  is  found  to  be  great. 
Thus  the  fakirs  of  India  have  carried   the  feats  of 
voluntary  torture  far  beyond  any  other  order  of  reli- 
gionists.    Mahometans,  generally,  are  more  zealous, 
devout,  and    fervent,    than   Christians.     Romanists 
surpass  Protestants  in  the  solemnity,  intensity,  and 
scrupulosity  of  their  devotional  exercises.     In  con- 
formity with  this  well-known  principle  the  monastic 
orders  have,  in  all  ages,  had  to  boast  of  some  prodi- 
gious instances  of  mortification,  or  of  charitable  he- 
roism.     And  the  boast  might  be  allowed  to  win 
more  praise  than  can  be  granted  to  it,  if  there  were 
not  manifest,  invariably,  in  these  egregious  exploits, 
a  ferment  of  sinister  feelings,  quite  incompatible  with 
the  simplicity  and  purity  of  Christian  virtue. 

For  example,  let  a  comparison  be  drawn  between 
a  daughter  who,  in  the  deep  seclusion  of  private  life, 
and  without  a  spectator  to  applaud  her  virtue,  de- 


236  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

votes  cheerfully  her  prime  of  years  to  the  service  of 
an  afflicted  parent  ; — and  the  nun,  who  inveigles 
beggars  daily  to  the  convent,  where  she  absolves 
them  against  their  will,  from  their  filth,  dresses  their 
ulcers,  and  cleanses  their  tatters:  assuredly  the  part 
she  performs  is  more  seemingly  difficult,  and  far 
more  revolting  than  that  of  the  pious  daughter.  Yet 
is  it  in  fact  more  easy;  for  the  inflated  "sister  of 
charity"*  is  sustained  and  impelled  by  notions  of 
heroism,  and  of  celestial  excellence,  and  by  a  pre- 
sent recompense  of  fame  in  her  sisterhood,  of  all 
which  the  other  does  not  dream,  who,  if  she  pos- 
sessed not  the  substantial  motives  of  true  goodness, 
could  never  in  this  manner  win  Ithe  blessing  of 
heaven. 

Self-inflicted  penances,  wasteful  abstinences, 
fruitless  labors,  sanctimonious  humiliations,  and  all 
such  like  spontaneities,  may  fairly  be  classed  with 
those  painful  and  perilous  sports,  in  pursuing  which 
it  often  happens  that  a  greater  amount  of  suffering 
is  endured,  and  of  danger  incurred,  than  ordinarily 
belongs  to  the  services  and  duties  of  real  life.  But 
these  freaks  of  the  monastery,  and  these  toils  of  the 
field,  deserve  little  praise,  seeing  that  they  meet 
their  immediate  reward  in  the  gratification  of  a  pe- 
culiar taste.  In  both  instances  the  adult  child  pleas- 
es himself  in  his  own  way,  and  must  be  deemed  to 
do  much  if  he  avoids  trampling  down  the  rights  of 
his  neighbor. 

*  The  charitable  offices  of  the  nuns  in  the  hospitals   of  France  ought 
always  to  be  mentioned  with  respect  and  admiration. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  237 

If  fictitious  virtue  be  formed  on  the  model  of  the 
Coran,  it  naturally  assumes  the  style  of  martial  ar- 
rogance, of  fanatical  zeal,  and  of  bluff  devotion.  But 
if  it  be  the  Gospels  that  furnish  the  pattern,  then  an 
opposite  phase  of  sanctity  is  shown. — Abject  lowli- 
ness, and  voluntary  poverty  (which  is  no  poverty  at 
all,)  and  ingenious  austerities,  and  romantic  exploits 
of  charity,  and  other  similar  misinterpretations  of 
the  spirit  and  letter  of  New  Testament  morality,  are 
combined  to  form  a  tattered  and  tawdry  effigy  of 
the  humility,  purity,  and  beneficence  of  christian 
holiness.  But  compel  the  imitator  to  relinquish  all 
that  is  heroic,  and  picturesque,  and  poetical  in  his 
style  of  behavior;  oblige  him  to  lay  aside  whatever 
makes  the  vulgar  gape  at  his  sanctity;  let  him  un- 
cowl  his  cars,  and  cover  his  naked  feet:  ask  him  to 
acquit  himself  patiently,  faithfully,  christianly,  amid 
the  non-illustrious  and  difficult  duties  of  common 
life,  and  he  will  find  himself  destitute  of  motive 
and  of  zest  for  his  daily  task.  Temperance  without 
abstinence  will  have  no  charm  for  him;  nor  purity 
without  a  vow;  nor  self-denial  without  austerity;  nor 
patience  withoutstoicism;  nor  charity  without  a  trum- 
pet. The  man  of  sackcloth  who  was  a  prodigy  of  holi- 
ness in  the  cloister,  becomes,  if  transported  into  the 
sphere  of  domestic  life,  a  monster  of  selfishness  and 
sensuality. 

Time,  which  insensibly  aggravates  the  abuses  of 
every  corrupt  system,  does  also  furnish  an  apology 
— more  and  more  valid  from  age  to  age,  for  the  con- 
21 


238  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

duct  of  the  individuals  who  spring  up  in  succession 
to  act  their  parts  within  its  machinery.  While  an- 
cient institutions  rest  tranquilly  on  their  bases,  while 
venerable  usages  obtain  unquestioned  submission, 
while  opinion  paces  forwards  with  a  slumbering 
step  upon  its  deep-worn  tracts,  men  are  not  more 
conscious  of  the  enormity  of  the  errors  that  may  be 
chargeable  upon  their  creeds  and  practices,  than  a 
secluded  tribe  is  of  the  strangeness  and  inelegance 
of  the  national  costume.  This  principle  should 
never  be  lost  sight  of  when  we  are  estimating  the 
personal  character  of  the  members  of  the  Romish 
Church  before  the  period  of  the  Reformation;  or 
indeed  in  later  times,  where  no  free  and  fair  conflict 
of  opinions  has  taken  place.  The  system  and  its 
victims  are  always  to  be  thought  of  apart. 

A  recurrence,  on  the  part  of  a  people  at  large,  to 
abstract  principles  of  political  or  religious  truth,  is 
a  much  less  frequent  event  than  the  rarest  of  nat- 
ural phenomena.  It  is  only  in  consequence  of 
shocks  happening  in  the  social  system,  by  no  means 
so  often  as  earthquakes  do  in  the  material,  that  the 
human  mind  is  rent  from  its  habitudes,  and  placed 
in  a  position  whence  it  may  with  advantage  com- 
pare its  opinions  with  universal  truth.  The  Chris- 
tian Church  underwent  not  once  the  perils  and  bene- 
fits of  such  a  convulsion  during  the  long  course  of 
fifteen  hundred  years.  Throughout  that  protracted 
space  of  time  the  men  of  each  age,  with  few  excep- 
tions, quietly  deemed  that  to  be  good  which  their 
fathers  had  thought  soj  and  as  naturally  delivered  it 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  239 

to  their  successors,  endorsed  with  their  own  solemn 
approbation.  In  forming  an  opinion  therefore  of 
the  merits  of  individuals,  justice — we  need  not 
say  candor,  demands  that  the  whole,  or  almost  the 
whole  amount  of  the  abstract  error  of  the  system 
within  which,  by  accident  of  birth,  they  move, 
should  be  deducted  from  the  reckoning.  This  sort 
of  justice  may  especially  be  claimed  in  behalf  of 
those  who  rather  acquiesced  in  the  religious  modes 
of  their  times,  than  appeared  as  its  active  champi- 
ons. Thus  we  excuse  the  originators  and  early  sup- 
porters of  a  bad  system,  on  the  ground  of  their 
ignorance  of  its  evil  tendency  and  actual  conse- 
quences;* and  again  we  palliate  the  fault  of  its  ad- 
herents in  a  late  age  by  pleading  for  them  the  in- 
fluence of  that  natural  sentiment  of  respect  which 
is  paid  to  antiquity. 

These  proper  allowances  being  made,  there  will 
be  no  difficulty  in  turning  from  an  indignant  repro- 
bation of  the  monkish  practices,  to  a  charitable  and 
consoling  belief  in  the  personal  virtues  and  even 
eminent  piety  of  many  who,  in  every  age,  have  fret- 

*  Perhaps  the  treatment  which  Jovinian  an  Vigilantius  received  from 
Jerom,  Ambrose,  and  Augustine,  may  be  thought  to  detract  very  much 
from  the  validity  of  the  apolog}'  here  offered  for  the  ancient  abettors  of 
monachism.  But  ihe  circumstances  of  the  case  are  involved  in  too  much 
obscurity  to  allow  a  distinct  opinion  to  be  formed  on  the  subject.  The 
protest  of  Jovinian  against  the  prevailing  errors  of  the  Church  might  be 
connected  with  some  extravagance  of  belief,  or  some  impropriety  of  con- 
duct which  prevented  his  testimony  from  being  listened  to  with  respect. 
Yet  certainly  the  appearances  of  the  case  show  decidedly  against  both 
Jerom  and  Ambrose.  Augustine  knew  little  personally  of  the  (supposed) 
error  against  which  he  inveighed. 
/ 


240  INGREDIENTS    OF    THE 

ted  away  an  unblessed  existence  within  that  dun- 
geon of  religious  delusion — the  monastery.  In  de- 
fault of  complete  evidence,  yet  on  the  ground  of 
some  substantial  proof,  it  is  allowable  to  hope  that 
the  monastic  orders  at  all  times  included  many  spir- 
itual members.*  There  is  even  reason  to  believe 
thai  a  better  style  of  sentiment,  and  less  extrava- 
gance, less  fanatical  heat,  less  knavish  pretension, 
and  more  of  humility  and  purity,  existed  here  and 
there  among  the  recluses  of  the  tenth  and  eleventh, 
than  among  those  of  the  fifth  and  sixth  centuries. 

In  the  earlier  period,  though  there  might  be  muc^ 
pretension  to  seclusion  from  the  world,  the  monastery 
was  in  fact  a  house  set  on  a  hill  in  the  midst  of  the 
christian  community;  and  was  ever  surrounded  by 
an  admiring  multitude;  and  its  inmates  might  always 
find  a  ready  revenue  of  glorification  for  the  exploits 
and  hypocrisies  of  supernatural  sanctity. f  But  in 
the  later  periods,  and  when  nothing  hardly  existed 

*  The  "De  Imitatione  Chrisli"  alone  affords  proof  enough  of  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  existence  of  elevated  piety  in  the  monastery.  It  abounds 
also  with  indications  of  the  petty  persecution  to  which  a  spiritual  monk 
was  exposed  among  his  brethren. 

t  Many  of  the  ancient  solitaries,  far  from  living  as  their  profession  re- 
quired, in  seclusion,  were  accustomed  to  admit  daily  the  visits  of  the  mul- 
titude who  flocked  around  them,  to  gaze  at  their  austerities — to  hear  their 
harangues,  or  to  be  exorcised,  or  healed  of  their  maladies.  Symeon, 
"the  man  of  the  pillar,"  everyday  exhibited  himself  to  a  gaping  crowd, 
collected  often  from  distant  countries.  St.  Antony,  more  sincere  in  his 
love  of  retirement,  when  pestered  by  the  plaudits  of  the  vulgar  in  Lower 
Egypt,  withdrew  into  a  desert  of  the  Thebais;  yet  even  there  he  soon 
found  himself  surrounded,  not  only  by  daemons,  but  by  admirers.  See 
Athan.  Op.  Vol.  II.  p.  833. 


ANCIENT    MONACHISM.  241 

without  doors  except  feudal  ignorance  and  fero- 
city— we  speak  of  the  monasteries  of  Europe  — 
many  of  the  religious  houses  were  real  seclusions, 
and  very  far  removed  from  any  market  of  vulgar 
praise.  Then  within  these  establishments,  it  can- 
not be  doubted,  that  the  pious  few  found  their  virtue 
much  rather  guarded  by  the  envious  eyes  of  their 
less  exemplary  comrades,  than  endangered  by  draw- 
ing upon  itself  any  sort  of  admiration.  The  spirit- 
ual Monk  (let  not  modern  prejudices  refuse  to  admit 
the  phrase)  glad  to  hide  himself  from  the  railleries 
or  spite  of  the  lax  fraternity,  kept  close  to  his  cell, 
and  there  passed  his  hours — not  uncheered,  not  un- 
delicious — in  prayer  and  meditation;  in  the  perusal 
of  religious  books,  and  in  the  pleasant,  edifying, 
and  beneficial  toils  of  transcription.  Not  seldom, 
as  is  proved  by  abundant  evidence,  the  life-giving 
words  of  prophets  and  apostles  were  the  subjects  of 
these  labors;  nor  ought  it  to  be  doubted  that  while, 
through  a  long  tract  of  centuries,  the  Scriptures — 
unknown  abroad,  were  holding  their  course  under- 
ground— if  one  might  so  speak,  waiting  the  time  of 
their  glorious  emerging,  they  imparted  the  substance 
of  true  knowledge  to  many  souls,  pent  with  them  in 
the  same  sepulchral  glooms. 

The  monkish  system  retained  its  ancient  style, 
with  little  alteration,  until  it  received  an  eniiance- 
nlent  and  somewhat  new  character  in  France,  in  the 
hands  of  the  followers  of  Jansen,  and  the  Port  Royal 
recluses.     Then    the  old  doctrine  of  religious  ab- 


242  MONACHISM 

straction — of  the  merging  of  the  soul  in  Deity,  and 
of  the  merit  and  efficacy  of  penitential  suicide,  was 
revived  with  an  intensity  never  before  known,  was 
recommended  by  a  much  larger  admixture  of  genu- 
ine scriptural  knowledge  than  had  ever  before  been 
connected  with  the  same  system,  and  wa's  graced  by 
the  brilliant  talents  and  great  learning  of  many  of 
the  party;  while  at  the  same  time  the  endurance  of 
persecution  gave  depth,  force,  and  heroism,  to  the 
sentiments  of  the  sect. 

It  was  inevitable  that  whatever  of  good  might 
arise  within  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  remain  in 
allegiance  to  it,  must  pass  over  to  the  ancient  and 
venerated  form  of  monkish  piety.  The  religion  of  the 
monastery  was  the  only  sort  of  devotedness  and  of 
seriousness  known  to,  or  sanctioned  by  that  Church. 
A  new  sect  of  fervent  religionists  could  therefore 
do  no  otherwise  than  either  fall  into  that  style,  or 
denounce  it;  and  the  latter  would  have  been  to 
break  from  Rome,  and  to  side  with  Ilugonots. 

Embarrassed  at  every  step  by  their  professed  sub- 
mission to  the  authority  of  the  Popes,  which  they 
perpetually  felt  to  be  at  variance  with  the  duty  they 
owed  to  God,  and  heavily  oppressed  and  galled  by 
their  necessary  acquiescence  in  the  flagrant  errors 
of  the  Church  in  which  alone  they  thought  salva- 
tion could  be  had,  and  still  more  deeply  injured  by 
their  own  zealously  loved  ascetic  doctrine,  these 
good  men  obtained  possession,  and  made  profession 
of  the  great  truths  of  Christianity  under  an  incom- 
parably heavier  weight  of  disadvantage  than  has 


IN    MODERN    TIMES.  243 

been  sustained  by  any  other  class  of  Christians 
from  the  apostolic  to  the  present  times.  They  have 
left  in  their  voluminous  and  valuable  writings,  a 
body  of  divinity,  doctrinal  and  practical,  which, 
when  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  its  production 
are  considered,  presents  a  matchless  proof  of  the 
intrinsic  power  of  Christianity,  upbearing  so  pon- 
derous a  mass  of  error. 

Nevertheless,  while  the  Port  Royal  divines  tmd 
their  friends  are  perused  with  pleasure  and  advan- 
tage, and  while  the  reader  is  often  inclined  to  ad- 
mit that  in  depth,  fervor,  and  solemnity  of  religious 
feeling,  in  richness  and  elevation  of  thought,  in  holy 
abstraction   from  earthly  interests,  in  devotedness 
of  zeal,  and  in  the  exemplification  of  some  difficult 
duties,  they  surpass  the  divines  of  England,  he  still 
feels,  and    sometimes  when  he  can  hardly  assign 
the  grounds  of  his  dissatisfaction,  that  a  vein  of 
illusiveness  runs  through  every  page.     Though  the 
great  principles  of  religion  are  much  more  distinctly 
and  more  feelingly  produced  than  generally  they 
are  in  the   writings  of  the  Fathers,  though  the  evi- 
dence of  genuine  and  exalted  piety  is  abundant  and 
unquestionable;  yet  is  there   an   infection  of  ideal- 
ism, tainting  every  sentiment;  a  mist  of  the  imagi- 
nation, obscuring  every  doctrine.     In  turning  from 
the  French  writers  of  this  school  to  our  own  stand- 
ard divines,  the  reader  is  conscious  of  a  sensation 
that  might  be  compared  to  that  felt  by  one  who 
escapes  into   pure    air  from   a  chamber  in  which, 
though  it  was  possible  to  live,  respiration  was  op- 
pressed by  the  presence  of  mephetic  exhalations. 


244  MONACHISM 

Enfeebled  by  the  enthusiasm  to  which  they  so 
fondly  clung,  the  piety  of  these  admirable  men  fail- 
ed in  the  force  necessary  to  carry  them  triumphantly 
through  the  conflict  with  their  atrocious  enemy — 
"the  Society:"  they  were  themselves  in  too  many 
points  vulnerable,  to  close  fearlessly  with  their  ad- 
versary; and  they  grasped  the  sword  of  the  Spirit 
in  too  infirm  a  manner  to  be  able  to  drive  home  a 
deadly  thrust.  Had  it  been  otherwise — had  they 
been  free,  not  merely  from  the  shackle  of  submis- 
sion to  Rome,  but  free  from  the  debilitating  influ- 
ence of  mysticism  and  monkish  notions,  their 
moral  force,  their  talent,  their  learning,  and  their 
self-devotion,  might  have  sufficed,  first  to  the  over- 
throw of  tiieir  immediate  antagonist,  whose  bad 
cause  and  worse  arguments  were  hardly  supported 
against  the  augmenting  weight  of  public  opinion, 
even  by  the  whole  power  of  the  court.  Then  might 
they,  not  improbably,  have  supplied  the  impulse 
necessary  to  achieve  the  emancipation  of  the  Gal- 
lican  Church  from  the  thraldom  of  Rome;  an  event 
which  seemed  more  t*han  once  on  the  eve  of  accom- 
plishment. And  if  at  the  same  moment  the  Prot- 
estants of  France  had  received  just  that  degree  of 
indulgence — of  mere  sufferance,  which  was  demand- 
ed, we  do  not  say  by  justice  and  mercy,  but  by  a 
common  regard  to  the  national  welfare;  and  if  by 
these  means  a  substantially  sound,  though  perhaps 
partial  reform  had  taken  place  within  the  dominant 
Church,  and  dissent  been  allowed  to  spread  itself 
amicably  through  the  interstices  of  the  ecclesiastical 


IN    MODERN    TIMES.  245 

structure; — if  religious  liberty — not  indeed  in  the 
temper  of  republican  contumacy,  but  in  the  Chris- 
tian spirit  of  quiet  and  grateful  humility,  had  taken 
root  in  France,  is  it  too  much  to  say  that  Atheism 
could  never  have  become,  as  it  did,  the  national 
opinion,  and  that  the  consequent  solution  of  the 
social  system  in  blood  could  never  have  happened? 

The  Jansenists  and  the  inmates  of  Port  Royal, 
and  many  of  their  favorers,  displayed  a  constancy 
that  would  doubtless  have  carried  them  through  the 
fires  of  martyrdom.  But  the  intellectual  courage 
necessary  to  bear  them  fearlessly  through  an  exam- 
ination of  the  errors  of  the  papal  superstition  could 
spring  only  from  a  healthy  force  of  mind,  utterly 
incompatible  with  the  dotings  of  religious  abstrac- 
tion, with  the  petty  solicitudes  of  sackclothed  ab- 
stinence, with  the  trivial  ceremonials  of  the  daily 
ritual,  with  the  prim  niceties  of  behavior  that  pin 
down  the  body  and  soul  of  a  Romish  regular  to  his 
parchment-pattern  of  artificial  sanctity.  The  Jan- 
senists had  not  such  courage:  if  they  worshipped 
not  the  beast,  they  cringed  before  him:  he  planted 
his  dragon-foot  upon  their  necks,  and  their  wisdom 
and  their  virtues  were  lost  for  ever  to  France. 

The  monk  of  Wittemburg  had  taken  a  bolder 
and  a  better  course.  When  he  began  to  find  fault 
with  Rome,  he  rejected  not  only  its  own  flagrant 
and  recent  corruptions;  but  the  specious  delusions 
it  had  inherited  from  the  ancient  church;  and  after 
a  short  struggle  with  the  prejudices  of  education,  he 
became,  not  only  no  papist,   but  no  monk.      Full 


246  MODERN    MONACHISM. 

fraught  with  the  principles  and  spirit  of  the  Bible, 
he  denounced  as  well  the  venerable  errors  of  the 
fathers,  as  the  scarlet  sins  of  the  mother  of  impu- 
rities: and  was  as  little  a  disciple  of  Jerom,  of 
Gregory,  and  of  Basil,  as  of  the  doctors  of  the  Vat- 
ican. 

The  English  reformers  trod  the  ground  of  the- 
ological inquiry  with  the  same  manly  step;  and  that 
firm  step  shook  the  monasteries  to  the  dust.  Those 
great  and  good  men  went  back  to  the  Scriptures, 
where  they  found  at  once  the  great  realities  of  re- 
ligion— a  condemning  law,  a  justifying  Gospel,  and 
a  provision  of  grace  for  a  life  of  true  holiness. 
With  these  substantial  principles  in  their  hearts, 
they  spurned  whatever  was  trivial  and  spurious,  and 
amid  the  fires  of  persecution,  reared  the  structure 
— a  structure  still  unshaken,  of  religion  for  Eng- 
land, upon  "the  foundation  of  the  apostles  and 
prophets."  Had  there  existed  a  taste  for  mysti- 
cism, a  fondness  for  penitential  austerities,  a  cring- 
ing deference  to  the  fathers,  among  the  divines  of 
the  time  of  Edward  VI.  such  a  disposition  must, 
so  far  as  known  causes  are  to  be  calculated  upon, 
have  utterly  spoiled  the  reformation  in  England;  or 
have  postponed  it  a  hundred  years. 

Additional  Note. — The  almost  incredible  extent  to  which  the  re- 
ligious delusion  of  the  times  had  vitiated  the  common  sense  of  Christians, 
is  strikingly  displayed  in  the  sort  of  opposition  that  was  sometimes  made  to 
the  prevailing  notions.  Thus  we  find  the  Fathers,  in  the  midst  of  tlieir  so- 
phistical and  absurd  encomiums  of  celibacy,  now  and  then  putting  in  a  sav- 
ing plea  for  marriage.  But  how  immense  an  aberration  from  right  reason 
must  have  taken  place  before  there  could  be  any  need  for  such  apologies. 


NOTE.  247 

The  Scriptures  declare  that,  "God  formed  man,  male  and  female,  and 
blessed  them,  and  said,  Be  fruitful  and  multiply."  In  not  less  explicit 
terms  our  Lord  authenticates  the  sacredness  of  the  conjug-al  union,  "a 
man  shall  leave  his  father  and  his  mother,  and  shall  cleave  unto  his  wife/' 
and  the  apostle  of  the  Lord,  authoritatively  affirms  that  marriage  is  hon- 
orable in  allj  and  he  enjoins  a  Bishop  to  be  "the  husband  of  one  wife." 
Nevertheless,  and  in  contempt  of  the  plainest  evidence,  Christian  teach- 
ers, within  three  or  four  generations  of  the  apostolic  age,  are  found,  al- 
most universally  attempting  to  make  void  the  law  of  God,  by  their  inven- 
tions; or  if  compelled  to  acknowledge  its  authority,  yet  doing  so  in  an 
indirect  and  reluctant  manner. 

Some  of  the  favorers  of  monkery  were  so  impiously  bold,  as  to  call 
marriage  "a.  doctrine  of  the  devil."     But  this  horrible  audacity  is  strongly 
reprobated  by  those  who  mention  it.     Theodoret  speaks  of  the  sentiment 
as  wickedly  heretical,  and  no  reputable  writer  can  be  charged  with  ad- 
vancing so  profane  an  opinion.'  Clemens  Alexandrinus  condemns  those  who 
inveigh  against  the  institution  of  God,  which  is,  he  says,  a.v<iyK*ix  fion&o; 
mid  \if4nv   (raxppca-uv)!;;   and  contents  himself  with  lauding  the   superior 
merit,  purity,  and  advantage  of  the  single  life.      Gregory  Nyssen,  Orat. 
31,  looks  about  and  finds  an  apology  for  the  divine  appointment  of  matri- 
mony on  this  ground,  "that  it  is  the  means  of  bringing  into  the  world  those 
who  may  serve  and  please  God."     Chrysostom  allows,  Hom.  26,  that 
0  yifAo;  ovS'iv  x.a>huu  thv  a.piT»v.     Theophylact  speaks  to  the  same  purpose; 
and  many  others  save  their  consistency  in  professing  to  submit  to  the 
authority  of  Scripture,  by  occasional  admissions  of  the  same  sort.   And  yet, 
whenever  a  solitary  voice  was  raised  in  reprehension  of  the  fundamental 
principles  of  monkery,  it  was  presently  lost  amid  the  din  and  angry  clam- 
ors of  fanatical  zeal.     The  natural  and  very  momentous  question — "are 
these  practices  authorised  by  the  word  of  God?"seems  never  once, from  the 
days  of  Cyprian  to  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  to  have  been  fairly  and 
calmly  discussed.      With  such  an  instance  before  us  of  the  infatuating 
power  of  religious  illusion,  ought  not  the    Church  in   every  age    to  en- 
tertain  a    constant  jealousy  of  itself;  and  especially  when  on  any  point 
of  belief  or  practice  a  reluctance  is  felt  to  abide  by  the  consequences  of 
an  appeal  to  Scripture?      Happily,  in  the  age  in  which  we  live,  if  there 
be  not  on  all  hands  a  perfect  simplicity  of  deference  to  the  Bible,  there 
is  a  nearer  approach   to   it   than    has    perhaps   ever  existed   defusedly 
through  the  church  since  the  days  of  the  apostles:  and  happily  also,  there 
are  strong  indications  on  all  sides  of  an  increasing  deference  to  the  only 
standard  of  truth  and  morals.    This,  by  eminence  is  the  bright  omen  of 
ihe  times. 


SECTION    X. 

HINTS  ON  THE  PROBABLE  TRIUMPH  OF  CHRISTIANITY, 
SUBMITTED  ESPECIALLY  TO  THOSE  WHO  MISUSE  THE 
TERM,  ENTHUSIASM. 

To  wave  the  exercise  of  discrimination,  can,  un- 
der no  imaginable  circumstances,  be  advantageous 
to  any  man:  nor  is  it  ever  otherwise  than  absurd  to 
persist  in  a  solecism  which  might  be  corrected  by 
a  moment's  attention  to  obvious  facts.  But  some 
such  suspension  of  good  sense  manifestly  takes  place 
with  those  who  accustom  themselves  to  designate, 
in  a  mass,  as  Enthusiasts,  the  many  thousands  of 
their  countrymen,  of  all  communions,  who  at  the 
present  time  make  profession  of  the  doctrines  of 
the  Reformation. 

All  who  are  not  wilfully  ignorant  must  know 
that  what  is  vulgarly  called  "the  religious  world," 
now  includes,  not  only  myriads  of  the  lower,  and 
middle,  and  imperfectly  educated  classes,  in  rela- 
tion to  whom  self-complacent  arrogance  may  easily 
find  pretexts  of  scorn; — and  not  only  many  of  the 
opulent  and  the  noble;  but  a  fair  proportion  also  of 


ABUSE  OF    THE    TERM,    ENTHUSIASM.  349 

all  the  talent,  and  learning,  and  brilliancy  of  mind, 
that  adorns  the  professional  circles,  and  that  vivifies 
the  literature  of  the  country.  What  appropriate- 
ness is  there  then  left  to  language,  if  a  phrase  of 
supercilious  import  is  to  be  attached  to  the  names 
of  men  of  vigorous  understanding,  and  energetic 
character,  and  eminent  acquirement; — of  men,  suc- 
cessful in  their  several  courses,  and  accomplished  in 
whatever  gives  grace  to  human  nature?  When 
those,  vi'ho  are  in  no  assignable  good  quality  inferior 
to  their  competitors  on  the  arena  of  life,  are,  on  ac- 
count of  their  religious  opinions  and  practices,  call- 
ed Enthusiasts,  is  it  not  evident  that  nothing  is  ac- 
tually effected  but  the  annulling  of  the  contumelious 
power  of  the  term  so  misused?  We  may  indeed 
in  this  maimer  neutralize  the  significance  of  a  word; 
but  we  cannot  slur  the  fair  fame  of  those  upon 
whom  so  absurdly  we  have  flung  it. 

But  if  arrogance  and  malignity  itself  be  ashamed 
of  so  flagrant  an  abuse  of  the  word  Enthusiast;  then 
neither  ought  that  epithet  (unless  where  special 
proof  can  be  given)  to  be  assigned  to  the  multitude, 
holding  the  very  same  opinions:  for  the  eminent  few, 
seeing  that  they  profess  these  tenets  and  adhere  to 
these  practices  deliberately,  and  explicitly,  must  be 
allowed  the  privilege  of  redeeming  their  belief  and 
usages  from  contempt,  by  whomsoever  maintained. 

An  opinion  gravely  professed   by  a  man  of  sense 

and  education,  demands  respectful  consideration — 

demands  and  actually  receives  it  from  all  whose  own 

sense  and  education  give  them  a  correlative  right* 

22 


250  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

and  whoever  offends  against  this  sort  of  courtsey 
may  fairly  be  deemed  to  have  forfeited  the  privi- 
leges it  secures.  But  retaliation  is  declined  by  those 
who  might  use  it,  and  it  is  declined  on  the  ground 
not  only  of  christian  meekness,  but  of  commisera- 
tion towards  such  violaters  of  candor  and  good  man- 
ners, whom  they  hold  to  be  acting  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  deplorable  and  fatal  infatuation. 

That  this  infatuation  should,  in  any  great  number 
of  instances,  be  dispelled  by  mere  shewing  of  rea- 
sons, is  what  the  religionists — the  enthusiasts,  are  by 
no  means  so  enthusiaslical  as  to  expect: — they  too 
well  understand  the  nature  of  the  malady,  and  too 
well  know  its  inveteracy,  to  imagine  that    it   may 
be  dissipated  by  argument,  even  though  the  cause 
were  in  the   hands  of  a  college  of  dialecticians. 
And  yet,  though  they  entertain  no  such  expectation 
as  this,  they — the  religionists — do  very  generally, 
and  with  some  degree  of  confidence  entertain  the 
belief  that,  ere  very  long,  the  error  of  irreligion 
will  be  seen  universally,  and  that  Christianity,  or, 
for  the  sake  of  distinctness,  let  it  be  said  the  relig- 
ion of  the  Reformation,  the  religion  of  Wickliffe, 
and  Latimer,  and  Cranmer,  and  Jewel,  and  Hooker, 
and  Owen,  and  Howe  and  Baxter,  will  gain  unques- 
tioned ascendancy — will  bear  down  infidelity  and 
heresy,  and  absorb  schism,  and  possess  itself  of  Chris- 
tendom;— and  of  the  family  of  man. 

In  support  of  this  belief  many  reasons  may  be 
urged,  some  of  which  can  be  expected  to  have 
weight  only  with  the  religious;  while  others  may 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  251 

well  claim  attention  from  all  who  are  competent 
and  accustomed  to  anticipate  the  probable  course 
of  human  affairs. 

There  are  three  distinct  methods  in  which  an  in- 
quiry of  this  sort  may  be  conducted:  of  these,  the 
first,  is  the  method  of  philosophical  calculation,  on 
the  known  principles  of  human  nature,  and  which, 
without  either  denying  or  assuming  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  forecasts,  from  past  events  and  present 
appearances,  the  probable  futurity.  To  pursue  such 
calculations  efficiently,  prepossessions  of  all  kinds, 
both  sceptical  and  religious,  must  be  held  in  abey- 
ance, while  the  naked  facts  that  belong  to  the  prob- 
lem are  contemplated  as  from  the  remoteness  of  a 
neutral  position. 

The  reader  and  writer  of  this  page  may  each  have 
formed  his  estimate  of  the  intrinsic  force  and  valid- 
ity of  certain  opinions;  but  this  private  estimate  may 
happen  to  be  much  above,  or  much  below  the  level 
which  perfect  reason  would  approve,  and,  be  it  what 
it  may,  it  can  avail  nothing  for  our  present  purpose. 
If  we  are  to  calculate  the  probable  extension  or  ex- 
tinction of  those  opinions,  we  must  consult  the  evi- 
dence of  facts  on  a  large  scale;  and  especially  must 
observe  what  manifestations  of  intrinsic  power  they 
have  given  on  certain  peculiar  and  critical  occa- 
sions. This  is  the  only  course  that  can  be  deemed 
satisfactory,  or  that  is  conformed  to  the  procedures  of 
modern  science.  We  do  not  now  wish  to  ask  a  ser- 
aph if  such  or  such  dogmas  are  held  to  be  true  in 
heaven;  but  we  are  to  learn  from  the  suffrage  of  the 


252  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

millions  of  mankind  whether  they  have  a  permanent 
power  to  command  and  to  regain  ascendency  over 
the  human  mind.  This  question  must  be  asked  of 
history,  and  we  must  take  care  to  open  the  book  at 
those  pages  where  the  great  eras  of  religious  revo- 
lution are  described.  Having  glanced  at  the  past, 
our  next  business  will  be  to  look  at  the  present: — 
this  kind  of  divination  is  the  only  one  known  to  the 
principles  of  philosophical  inquiry. 

The  early  triumph  of  the  Gospel  over  the  fascin- 
ating idolatries  and  the  astute  atheism  of  Greece 
and  Rome,  has  been  often  (and  conclusively)  insist- 
ed upon,  as  evidence  of  its  truth.  With  that  argu- 
ment we  have  nothing  now  to  do;  but  if  the  subject 
were  not  a  very  hackneyed  one  it  might  well  be 
passed  over,  in  all  its  details,  in  proof  of  a  different 
point — namely,  the  innate  power  of  the  religion  of 
the  Bible  to  vanquish  the  hearts  of  men.  An  op- 
ponent may  here  choose  his  alternative;  either  let 
him  grant  that  Christianity  triumphed  because  it 
was  true  and  divine;  or  let  him  deny  that  it  had  any 
aid  from  heaven.  Tn  the  former  case  we  shall  be  enti- 
tled to  infer  that  the  religion  of  God  must  at  length 
universally  prevail;  or  in  the  latter,  strongly  argue 
that  this  doctrine  possesses  almost  an  omnipotence 
of  intrinsic  force,  by  which  it  obtained  success  un- 
der circumstances  of  opposition,  such  as  made  its 
triumph  seem  even  to  its  enemies  miraculous:  and 
on  this  ground  the  expectation  of  its  future  preva- 
lence cannot  be  thought  unreasonable. 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  253 

But  if  there  were  room  to  imagine  that  the   first 
spread  of  Christianity  was  owing  rather  to  an  acci- 
dental conjuncture  of  favoring  circumstances,  than 
to  its  real  power  over  the  human  mind,  or  if  it  might 
be  thought   that  any  such  peculiar  virtue   was  all 
spent  and  exhausted  in  its  first  expansive  eflfort, 
then  it  is  natural   to  look  to  the  next  occasion   in 
which  the  opinions  of  mankind  were   put   in   fer- 
mentation, and  to  watch  in  what  manner  the  system 
of  the  Bible  rode  over  the  high  billows  of  political, 
religious,  and  intellectual    commotion.     It  was    a 
fair  trial  for  Christianity,  and  a  trial  essentially  dif- 
ferent from  its  first,  when  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
after  having  been  corrupted  in  every  part  to  a  state 
of  loathsome  ulceration,  it  had  to  contend  for  ex- 
istence, and  to  work  its  own  renovation,  at  the  mo- 
ment of  the  most    extraordinary  expansion  of  the 
human   intellect  that  has  ever  happened.     At  that 
moment  when  the  splendid  literature  of  the  ancient 
world  started  from  its  tomb,  and  kindled  a  blaze  of 
universal  admiration;  at  that  moment  when  the  first 
beams  of  sound  philosophy  broke  over  the  nations; 
and  when  the  revival  of  the  useful  arts  gave  at  once 
elasticity  to  the  minds  of  the  million,  and  a  check 
of  practical  influence  to  the  minds  of  the   few;  at 
the  moment  when    the  necromancy  of   the  press 
came  into  play  to  expose  and  explode  necromancy 
of  every  other  kind;  and  when  the  discovery  of  new 
continents,  and  of  a  new  path  to  the  old,  tended  to 
supplant  a  taste  for  whatever  is  visionary,  by  impart- 
ing a  vivid  taste  for  what  is  substantial;  at  such  a 
*22 


254  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

time,  which  seemed  to  leave  no  chance  of  continued 
existence  to  aught  that  was  not  in  its  nature  vigor- 
ous, might  it  not  confidently  have  been  said  this 
must  be  the  crisis  of  Christianity? — If  it  be  not  in- 
wardly sound — if  it  have  not  a  true  hold  of  human 
nature — if  it  be  a  thing  of  feebleness  and  dotage, 
fit  only  for  cells,  and  cowls,  and  the  precincts  of 
spiritual  despotism; — if  it  be  not  adapted  to  the 
world  of  action,  if  it  have  no  sympathy  with  the 
feelings  of  men — of  freemen; — nothing  can  save  it: 
no  power  of  princes,  no  devices  of  priests,  will  avail 
to  rear  it  anew,  and  to  replace  it  in  the  venera- 
tion of  the  people;  or  at  least  in  any  country,  where 
has  been  felt  the  freshening  gale  of  intellectual  life. 
The  result  of  this  crisis  need  not  be  narrated. 

It  may  even  be  doubted — had  not  Christianity 
been  fraught  with  power — if  all  the  influence  of 
kings,  and  craft  of  priests  could  have  upheld  it  in 
any  part  of  Europe,  after  the  revival  of  learning; 
certainly  not  in  those  countries  which  received  at 
the  same  time  the  invigoration  of  political  liberty, 
and  science,  and  commerce. 

Whether  the  religion  for  which  the  reformers 
suffered,  "was  from  heaven  or  of  men,"  is  not  the 
question;  but  whether  it  is  not  a  religion  of  robust 
constitution,  framed  to  endure,  and  to  spread,  and 
to  vanquish  the  hearts  of  men?  With  the  history 
of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  century  in  view,  it  is 
asked  if  Christianity  is  a  system  that  must  always 
lean  upon  ignorance,  and  craft,  and  despotism,  and 


OF    CHRISTIANITY,  255 

which,  when  those  rotten  stays  are  removed,  must 
fail  and  be  seen  no  more? 

Yet  another  species  of  trial  was  in  store  to  give 
proof  of  the  indestructibility  and  victorious  power 
of  Christianity.  It  remained  to  be  seen  whether, 
when  the  agitations,  political  and  moral,  consequent 
upon  the  great  schism  which  had  taken  place  in 
Europe  had  subsided,  and  when  the  season  of  slum- 
ber and  exhaustion  came  on,  and  when  human  rea- 
son, polished  and  tempered  by  physical  science  and 
elegant  literature,  should  awake  fully  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  its  powers;  whether  then  the  relig- 
ion of  the  Bible  could  retain  its  hold  of  the  na- 
tions;— or  at  least  of  those  of  them  that  enjoyed 
without  limit  the  happy  influences  of  political  liber- 
ty, and  intellectual  light.  This  was  a  sort  of  crisis 
which  Christianity  had  not  before  passed  through. 

And  what  wjiere  the  omens  under  which  it  enter- 
ed upon  the  new  trial  of  its  strength?  Were  the 
friends  of  Christianity  at  that  moment  of  porten- 
tous conflict  awake,  and  vigilant,  and  stouthearted, 
and  thoroughly  armed  to  repel  assaults?  The 
very  reverse  was  the  fact.  For  at  the  instant  when 
the  atheistical  conspiracy  made  its  long-concerted, 
and  well-advised  and  consentaneous,  and  furious 
attack,  there  was  scarcely  a  pulse  of  life  left  in  the 
Christian  body,  in  any  one  of  the  Protestant  states. 
The  old  superstitions  had  crawled  back  into  many 
of  their  ancient  corners.  The  spirit  of  protestation 
against  those  superstitions  had  breathed  itself  away 
in  trivial  wranglings,  or  had  given  place  to  infidelity 


256  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

■ — infidelity  aggravated  by  stalled  hypocrisy.  The 
Church  of  England — the  chief  prop  of  modern  Chris- 
tianity, was  torpid,  and  fainting  under  the  incubus 
of  false  doctrine,  and  a  secular  spirit,  and  seemed 
incapable  of  the  effort  which  the  peril  of  the  time 
demanded:  none  of  her  sons  were  panoplied,  and 
sound  hearted,  as  champions  in  such  a  cause  should 
be.  Within  a  part  only  of  a  small  body  of  Dissen- 
ters (for  a  part  was  smitten  with  the  plague  of  here- 
sy) and  that  part  in  great  measure  disqualified  from 
free  and  energetic  action  by  rigidities,  and  scruples, 
and  divisions — was  contained  almost  all  the  religious 
life  and  fervor  any  where  to  be  found  in  Christen- 
dom. 

Meanwhile  the  infidel  machinators  had  chosen 
their  ground  at  leisure,  and  were  wrought  to  the 
highest  pitch  of  energy  by  a  confident,  and  as  it 
might  well  seem,  a  well-founded  hope  of  success. 
They  were  backed  by  the  secret  wishes,  or  the  un- 
dissembled  cheerings  of  almost  the  entire  body  of 
educated  men  throughout  Europe.  They  used  the 
only  language  then  common  to  the  civilized  world, 
and  a  language  which  might  be  imagined  to  have 
been  framed  and  finished  designedly  to  accomplish 
the  demolition  of  whatever  was  grave  and  vener- 
ated;— a  language  beyond  any  other  of  raillery,  of 
insinuation,  and  of  sophistry;  a  language  of  polished 
missiles,  whose  temper  could  penetate  not  only  the 
cloak  of  imposture,  but  the  shield  of  truth. 

At  the  same  portentous  moment  the  shocks  and 
upheavings  of  political  commotion  opened  a  thousand 


OF    CSRISTIANITY.  257 

fissures  in  the  ancient  structure  of  moral  and  reli- 
gious sentiment,  and  the  enemies  of  Christianity,  sur- 
prised by  unexpected  success,  rushed  forward  to 
achieve  an  easy  triumpli.  The  firmest  and  the  wisest 
friends  of  old  opinions  desponded,  and  many  proba- 
bly believed  that  a  few  years  would  see  Atheism  the 
universal  doctrine  of  the  western  nations,  as  well  as 
military  despotism  the  only  form  of  government. 

It  is  hard  to  imagine  a  single  advantage  that  was 
lacking  to  the  promoters  of  infidelity,  or  a  single  cir- 
cumstance of  peril  and  ill-omen  that  was  not  present 
to  deepen  the  gloom  of  the  friends  of  religion.  The 
actual  issue  of  that  signal  crisis  is  before  our  eyes  in 
the  freshness  of  a  recent  event.  Christianity — we 
ask  not  whether  for  the  benefit  or  the  injury  of  the 
world — has  triumphed;  the  mere  fact  is  all  that  con- 
cerns our  argument.  But  shall  it  be  said — or  if  said, 
believed,  that  the  late  resurrection  of  the  religion  of 
the  Bible  has  been  managed  in  the  cabinets  of  mon- 
archs?  Have  kings  and  emperors  given  this  turn  to 
public  opinion,  which  now  compels  infidelity  to  hide 
its  shame  behind  the  very  mask  of  hypocrisy  that  it 
had  so  lately  torn  from  the  face  of  the  priest?  To 
come  home  to  facts  with  which  all  must  be  familiar; 
— has  there  not  been  heard,  within  the  last  few  years, 
from  the  most  enlightened,  the  most  sober  minded, 
and  the  freest  people  of  Europe,  a  firm,  articulate, 
spontaneous,  and  cordial  expression  of  preference, 
and  of  enhanced  veneration  towards  Christianity? 
Again  then  we  ask — not  if  this  religion  be  true,  but 


258  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

ifit  have  not,  even  beneath   our  own  observation, 
given  proof  enough  of  indestructible  vigor? 

The  spread  of  the  English  stock,  and  language, 
and  literature,  over  the  North  American  continent, 
has  afforded  a  distinct  and  very  significant  proof 
of  the  power  of  Christianity  to  retain  its  hold  of  the 
human  mind,  and  of  its  aptness  to  run  hand-in-hand 
with  civilization,  even  when  unaided  by  those  sec- 
ular succors  to  which  its  enemies  in  malice,  and 
some  of  its  friends  in  over-caution,  are  prone  to 
attribute  too  much  importance.  The  tendency  of 
republicanism,  which  obviously  has  some  strong 
affinity  with  infidelity — and  the  connection  of  the 
colonies,  at  the  moment  of  their  revolt,  with  France 
— and  the  prevalence  of  a  peculiarly  eager  and  un- 
corrected commercial  temper,  and  the  absence  of 
every  sort  and  semblance  of  restraint  upon  opinion 
— were  concurrent  circumstances,  belonging  to  the 
infancy  of  the  American  Union,  of  a  kind  which 
put  to  the  severest  test  the  intrinsic  power  of  Chris- 
tianity, in  retaining  its  hold  of  the  human  mind. 
Could  infidel  experimenters  have  wished  for  condi- 
tions more  equitable  under  which  to  try  the  respec- 
tive forces  of  the  opposing  systems? 

And  what  has  been  the  issue?  It  is  true  that  in- 
fidelity holds  still  its  ground  in  the  United  States, 
as  in  Europe,  and  there,  as  in  Europe,  keeps  com- 
pany with  whatever  is  debauched,  sordid,  oppres- 
sive, reckless,  ruffian-like.  But  at  the  same  time 
Christianity  has  gained,  rather  than  lost  ground, 
and  shows  itself  there  in  a  style  of  as  much  fervor 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  259 

and  zeal  as  in  England; — and  perhaps,  even  has 
the  advantage  in  these  respects.  Wherever,  on 
that  continent,  good  order  and  intelligence  are 
spreading,  there  also  the  religion  of  the  Bible 
spreads.  And  if  it  be  probable  that  the  English 
race,  and  language,  and  institutions,  will,  in  a  cen- 
tury, pervade  its  deserts,  all  appearances  favor  the 
belief  that  the  edifices  of  Christian  worship  will 
bless  every  landscape  of  the  present  wilderness  that 
shall  then  "blossom  as  the  rose." 

Before,  in  pursuing  this  method  of  frigid  calcula- 
tion, the  Christian  doctrine  be  weighed  against  the 
several  systems  with  which  it  must  contend  ere  it 
wins  its  universal   triumph,  it  is  proper  to  inquire 
what  is  the  probability  of  a  collision  actually  taking 
place.      To  estimate   fairly  this  probability,   those 
who  are  but  slenderly  acquainted  with  the  religious 
world — in  the   British  Islands,   in   America,  and  in 
the  Protestant  states  of  the  continent,  must  under- 
stand, better  than  generally  they  do,  the   precise 
nature  of  the  remarkable  revolution  that  has,  with- 
in the  last  thirty  years,  been   effected   in  the   senti- 
ments of  Christians  on  the  subject  of  the  diffusion 
of  their  religion.     Such  slenderly  informed  persons 
may  very  naturally  imagine  that  the   prodigious  ef- 
forts that  have   been  made  to  diffuse  Christianity 
through  the  world  have  sprung  simply  from  a  heat 
and  excitement,  in   its  nature  transient,  and  which, 
therefore,  must  be  expected  soon  to  subside.     But 
this  supposition  will  be  found  to  be  incomplete  and 


260  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

erroneous.  A  stir  and  kindling  of  feeling  has  no 
doubt  happened,  but  this  feeling,  and  the  activities 
which  followed  from  it,  have  given  occasion  to  the 
resurrection,  so  to  speak,  of  a  capital  article  of 
Christian  morals,  which,  after  lying  almost  latent 
for  centuries,  now  stands  forth  in  undisputed  and 
prominent  authority  in  the  code  of  religious  duty. 
This  recovered  principle  is  now  constantly  recog- 
nized and  enforced,  and  is  seen  to  exert  its  influ- 
ence, not  merely  within  the  upper  circles  of  central 
movement,  but  even  in  the  remotest  orbits  of  relig- 
ious feeling,  where  warmth  and  energy  are  manifestly 
not  excessive. 

The  founder  of  Christianity  left  with  his  disciples 
the  unlimited  injunction  to  go  forth  into  all  the 
world  and  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  every  creature. 
This  command,  corroborated  by  others  of  equiva^- 
lent  import,  and  enforced  by  the  very  nature  of  the 
Christian  doctrine,  and  by  the  spirit  of  Christian 
charity,  is  now  understood  and  acknowledged — in 
a  manner  that  is  new  to  the  Church — to  be  of  uni- 
versal obligation,  so  that  no  Christian,  how  obscure 
soever  may  be  his  station,  or  small  his  talents,  or 
limited  his  means,  can  be  held  to  be  altogether  ex- 
cused from  the  duty  of  fulfilling,  in  some  way,  the 
last  mandate  of  his  Lord.  Thus  understood,  this 
command  makes  every  believer  a  preacher  and  a 
missionary,  or  at  least  obliges  him  to  see  to  it,  so 
far  as  his  ability  extends,  that  the  labors  of  difiu- 
sive  evangelization  are  actually  performed  by  a  sub- 
stitute. 


OP    CHRISTIANITY. 


26] 


Before  the  commencement  of  the  recent  mission- 
ary efforts,  there  had  been  missions  to  the  heathen. 
But  these,  if  carried  on  with  any  thing  more  than 
a  perfunctionary  assiduity,  were  anomalous  to  the 
general  feeling  of  Christians,  and  rested  on  the  ex- 
emplary zeal  of  individuals.  But  the  modern  mis- 
sions are  maintained,  neither  by  the  zeaFof  the  few, 
nor  by  the  mere  zeal  of  the  many;  but  rather  by  the 
deep-seated  impulsive  power  of  a  grave  and  irre- 
sistible conviction,  pressing  on  the  conscience  even 
of  the  inert  and  the  selfish;  and  much  more  on  the 
hearts  of  the  fervent  and  devoted— That  a  Christian 
has  no  more  liberty  to  withhold  his  aid  and  service 
from  these  evangelizing  associations,  than  he  has  to 
abandon  the  duties  of  common  life;  and  that,  for 
a  man  to  profess  hope  in  Christ,  and  to  deny  what 
he  might  spare  to  promote  the  diffusion  of  the 
Gospel,  is  the  most  egregious  of  all  practical  sol- 
ecisms. 

Those  who  are  ignorant  of  this  remarkable  revo- 
lution of  sentiment,  or  who  may  be  sceptical  con- 
cerning it,  would  do  well  to  take  up  at  hazard  any 
dozen  of  the  discourses,  and  reports,  and  tracts,  that 
are  yearly,  and  monthly,  and  weekly,  flooding  from 
the  religious  press,  among  which  they  will  hardly 
find  one  that  does  not  assume  this  as  an  admit- 
ted principle,  and  as  the  ultimate  and  irresistible 
motive  of  every  hortatory  appeal.  And  if  among 
these  ephemera,  there  are  any — and  such  are  not 
seldom  to  be  found,  that  bear  the  stamp  of  superior 
intelligence,  it  will  be  seen  almost  invariably,  that 
23 


262  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

the  reasoner  summons  all  the  force  of  his  mind — 
not  indeed  to  prove  that  every  Christian  is  bound  to 
promote  the  diffusion  of  scriptural  knowledge,  but 
by  some  new  ingenuity  of  illustration,  to  place  the 
acknowledged  duty  in  a  stronger  light,  or  to  show 
in  what  manner  it  bears  upon  the  specific  object 
for  which  he  pleads.  And  it  is  to  be  noted  that 
these  popular  addresses  exhibit,  for  the  most  part, 
much  more  of  the  gravity  and  calmness  which  nat- 
urally belong  to  the  style  of  those  who  feel  that 
they  are  standing  upon  undisputed  ground,  than  of 
the  solicitude  or  the  inflammatory  verbosity  and  tur- 
gidness  of  writers  who  are  laboring  to  fan  a  decay- 
ing blaze  of  indefensible  enthusiasm. 

Or  again;  it  may  well  be  inferred  that  the  mod- 
ern missionary  zeal  springs  from  motives  of  a  sub- 
stantial and  permanent  kind,  since  they  affect, 
without  exception,  every  body  of  Christians  (hold- 
ing the  doctrines  of  the  Reformation)  and  are  felt 
in  precisely  the  same  manner  by  the  Christians  of 
every  Protestant  community  of  Europe,  and  more- 
over the  feeling  has  not  declined,  but  has  sensibly 
increased  since  the  first  years  of  its  activity;  and  it 
has  endured  the  trial,  in  some  instances,  of  severe 
and  long-continued  discomfitures,  or  of  very  par- 
tial success.  These  are  indications  of  a  spring  of 
action  far  more  sedate  and  enduring  than  any 
leverish  excitement  can  ever  supply. 

But  if  the  extent,  and  the  power,  and  the  promise 
of  the  existing  missionary  zeal  are  to  be  duly  esti- 
mated, the  inquirer  should  visit  the  homes  of  our 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  263 

religious  folks;  or  enter  the  schools  in  which  their 
children  are  trained,  and  there  learn  what  is  the 
doctrine  inculcated  upon  those  who  are  rising  up 
to  take  place  on  the  arena  of  life:  or  let  him  listen 
to  the  hymns  they  lisp,  and  examine  the  tracts  they 
read,  and  he  will  meet  the  same  great  principle  in 
a  thousand  manners  enforced,  namely — That  it  is 
the  duty  of  every  Christian,  young  or  old,  rich  or 
poor,  to  take  part  in  sending  the  Gospel  to  all  na- 
tions. Or  let  the  observer  notice  the  "Missionary 
Box,"  in  the  school-room,  in  the  nursery,  in  the 
shop-parlor,  in  the  farm-house  kitchen,  in  the  cot- 
tage, of  the  religious;  and  let  him  mark  the  multi- 
form contrivances,  for  swelling  the  amount  of  the 
revenues  of  Christian  charity,  devised,  and  zealously 
persisted  in,  by  youths  and  by  little  ones,  whose  par- 
ents, at  the  same  age,  thought  of  nothing  but  of 
cakes  and  sports. 

And  does  all  this  steady  movement,  this  wide- 
spreading  and  closely-compacted  system  of  united 
effort,  this  mechanism  in  which  infancy  as  well  as 
maturity  takes  its  part,  indicate  nothing  for  futu- 
rity? Shall  it  all  have  passed  away  and  be  for- 
gotten with  the  present  generation?  If  indeed  it 
were  confined  to  a  sect,  or  to  a  province,  or  to  a 
country,  it  might — though  that  were  unlikely;  but 
not  if  it  be  the  common  style  of  Christian  feeling  in 
every  part  of  the  world  where  fervent  Christianity 
exists  at  all.  Particular  associations  may  be  dis- 
solved, and  particular  schemes  may  be  broken  up; 
standard-bearers  in  the  sacred  cause  may  faint;  the 


2G4  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

zeal  of  certain  communities  may  fade;  or  political 
disasters  may  here  and  there  bring  ruin  upon  pious 
labors;  but  unless  devastation  universal  sweeps  over 
the  face  of  the  civilized  world,  the  doctrine  of  mis- 
sionary zeal,  which  has  been  broad-cast  over  Chris- 
tendom in  the  present  day,  will  not  fail  of  coming 
to  its  harvest.  And  now  if  there  are  any  who  wish 
ill  to  Christianity,  let  them  hasten  to  prevent  the 
measures  of  its  friends — let  them  teach  their  babes 
to  hate  the  Gospel;  for  those  Vv'ho  love  it  are  taking 
such  means  to  insure  its  future  triumph  as  can 
hardly  fail  of  success,  and  such  as,  on  all  com- 
mon grounds  of  calculation,  make  it  likely  that 
even  the  sons  and  the  daughters  of  the  present  race 
of  infidels  may  be  involved  in  the  approaching  con- 
quests of  the  Son  of  David,  and  actually  join  in  the 
loud  hosanna  that  shall  announce  his  accession  to 
the  throne  of  universal  empire. 

It  is  then  more  than  barely  probable — it  is  almost 
certain,  that  the  attempt  to  offer  Christianity  to  all 
nations  will  not  presently  be  abandoned.  The 
next  question  is  this — whether,  on  grounds  of  frigid 
calculation,  such  attempts  are  recommended  by 
any  fair  promise  of  success. 

When  the  term  calculation,  is  used  in  reference 
to  the  diffusion  of  Christianity — a  use  of  the  word 
which  perhaps  may  somewhat  offend  the  ear  of 
piety,  an  important  distinction  must  be  kept  in 
view  between  that  cordial  admission  of  the  Gospel 
which    renovates  the   hearts  of  men    individually, 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  2C5 

and  that  change  of  opinion  and  profession  which 
may  be  brought  about  among  a  people  by  means 
which  fall  short  of  possessing  efficiency  to  produce 
repentance  and  faith.  And  \yhile  the  former  must 
every  where — at  home  or  abroad,  be  the  great  ob- 
ject aimed  at  and  desired  by  the  Christian  ministry, 
the  latter  is  both  in  itself— even  if  nothing  more 
were  done,  and  as  a  preliminary  and  probable 
means  conducing  to  the  production  of  genuine 
piety,  a  most  desirable  and  happy  revolution.  It  is 
moreover  a  revolution  which  may  be  reckoned  to 
lie  always  within  the  range  of  human  agency,  when 
skilfully  and  perseveringly  applied.  For  Christian- 
ity is  a  species  of  knowledge,  in  its  nature  commu- 
nicable, and  as  a  system  of  opinions,  or  as  a  code  of 
morals,  possesses  a  manifest  superiority  when  fairly 
brought  into  comparison  with  any  existing  religious 
system.  And  if  it  may  reasonably  be  asked  con- 
cerning any  people — how  shall  they  believe  without 
a  preacher?  the  converse  question  may,  with  not 
less  confidence  be  put — how  shall  they  not  believe 
with  one? 

Pagan  and  Mahommedan  nations  ought  to  be 
thought  of  by  a  Christian  people  just  as  the  master 
of  a  numerous  household,  if  he  be  wise  and  benev- 
olent, thinks  of  the  untutored  members  of  his  fam- 
ily; for  though  no  actual  subjection  is  owned  on 
the  one  side,  or  can  be  exercised  on  the  other, 
there  exists,  virtually,  the  relationship  and  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  that  domination  which  is  ever  pos-, 
sessed  by  knowledge,  and  intelligence,  and  virtue, 
*23 


2G6  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

over  ignorance  and  degradation.  Now,  as  the 
master  of  a  family  may,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent, 
infallibly  succeed  by  zeal,  affection,  skill,  and  pa- 
tience, in  dispelling  the  superstitions  and  the  ig- 
norance which  have  happened  to  come  under  his 
roof,  so,  with  zeal,  affection,  skill,  and  patience, 
proportioned  to  the  greatness  of  the  work,  may  the 
Christian  nations  at  length  certainly  effect  a  cleans- 
ing of  the  earth  from  the  cruelties  and  impurities  of 
polytheism. 

Nothing  inconsistent  with  the  humblest  and  most 
devout  dependence  upon  the  divine  agency  is  im- 
plied in  this  supposition,  any  more  than  in  the  be- 
lief that  our  children  and  servants  may  be  trained 
in  the  knowledge  of  God,  and  in  the  decencies  of 
Christian  worship.  Is  there  not  reason  to  think  that 
an  inattention  to  this  plain  principle  has  prevented, 
in  some  measure,  the  adoption  of  those  vigorous 
and  extended  operations,  which  common  sense  pre- 
"  scribes  as  the  proper  and  probable  means  of  diffus- 
ing at  once  civilization  and  religion  through  the 
world.'' 

The  probability  of  a  change  of  religion  on  the 
part  of  an  entire  people  may,  it  is  true,  be  argued 
on  the  adverse  as  well  as  on  the  favorable  side,  with 
great  appearance  of  reason.  The  obstination  of 
the  human  mind  in  adhering  to  the  worse,  even 
when  the  better  is  presented  to  its  choice,  seems 
not  seldom  to  possess  the  invincibility  of  a  physical 
law;  and  it  has  been  found  as  impracticable  to  re- 
form an  absurd  usage,  as  to  remodel  the  national 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  267 

physiognomy.     How  often  have   both  reason  and 
despotism  been  baffled  in  their  endeavors  to  effect 
even  a  trivial  alteration  in  ancient  usages  or  cos- 
tumes; and  there  has  been  room  to  suppose,  that 
the  tenacity  of  life  belonging  to  customs  or  opin- 
ions bears  direct  proportion  always  to  their  absurd- 
ity and  mischievous  consequence.  The  high  antiquity 
and  the  still  unbroken  force  of  the  Asiatic  idolatries 
— in  themselves  so  hideous,  so  burdensome,  and  so 
sanguinary,  stand  forth  as  most  impressive  and  ap- 
palling confirmations  of  the  truth  that  whatever  has 
once  gained  for  itself  the  sanction  of  time,  may  bold- 
ly defy  the  assaults  of  reason.     And  then,  when  re- 
ligious opinions  and  practices  are  in  question,  there 
is  not  merely  to  be  broken  through  the  iron  law  of 
immemorial  usage,  but  to  be  encountered  the  living 
opposition  of  the  priest-hood,  already  firmly  seated 
in  the  cloud-girt  throne  of  supposed  supernatural 
power,  and  interested  as  deeply  as  men  can  be  who 
have  at  stake  their  civil  existence,  and  their  credit, 
and  their  means  of  luxurious  idleness.     Again,  in 
most  instances,  ancient  religious  opinions  send  down 
their  roots  through  the  solid  structure  of  the  civil 
institutions  of  the  people: — the  old  superstition  is 
an  oak  that  was  sown  by  the  builder  of  the  state — 
has  actually  pervaded   the  entire  foundations,  and 
forms  now  the  living  bond-timber,  to  remove  which 
would  be  to  bring  to  the  ground  the  whole  tottering 
masonry  of  the  social  system. 

When  this  side  of  the  question  has  been   long 
and  exclusively  contemplated,  the  schemes  of  mis- 


268  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

sionary  zeal  may  well  seem  to  be  utterly  chimerical, 
or  if  not  chimerical — dangerous.  But  the  friends 
of  mankind  do  not  forget  that  the  very  same  objects 
may  be  viewed  in  another  light. — Even  before  par- 
ticular facts  are  appealed  to,  an  hypothesis  of  an 
opposite  kind  may  plausibly  be  advanced. — It  may 
be  alleged  that  Opinion — the  invisible  power  that 
rules  the  world,  is  a  name  without  substance,  which, 
though  omnipotent  so  long  as  it  is  thought  to  be  so, 
"vanishes  quicker  than  a  mist,  when  once  suspected 
to  be  impotent.  It  might  also  with  great  appear- 
ance of  reason  be  affirmed  as  a  universal  law  of  the 
moral  world,  that  the  better,  when  fairly  brought 
into  collision  vvith  the  worse,  possesses  an  infallible 
certainty  of  ultimate  prevalence. 

On  this  principle,  it  may  be  said,  that  the  improv- 
ed mechanical  processes  of  a  scientific  people,  will 
at  length  necessarily  supplant  the  operose,  and 
wasteful,  and  inefficient  methods  practised  by  half- 
civilized  nations.  And  thus  probably  will  the  ruin- 
ous and  depopulating  usages  of  despotism,  give  way 
before  the  wealth-giving  maxims  of  legal  government. 
And  thus  also  may  it  be  hoped  that  a  pure  theology, 
and  a  pure  morality,  shall  inevilably~if  zealously  dif- 
fused, prevail  till  they  have  removed  all  superstitions 
with  all  their  corruptions.  Even  on  the  lowest  princi- 
ples of  natural  theology,  some  such  medicative  power 
may  be  presumed  to  have  been  imparted  to  the  hu- 
man system,  as  a  provision  against  the  progress  of 
utter  moral  dissolution. 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  269 

But  while  an  argument  of  this  sort  is  at  issue,  the 
simple  method  of  appealing  to  such  facts  as  may 
seem  to  bear  conclusively  upon  the  question,  will 
assuredly  not  be  neglected;  and  it  will  be  asked 
whether  there  are  on  record  any  instances  which 
give  a  peremptory  negative  to  the  assertion  that  a 
national  change  of  religion  ought  to  be  thought  of 
as  an  event  in  the  last  degree  improbable.  And 
why  should  not  the  spread  and  triumph  of  Christian- 
ity in  the  first  ages  of  its  promulgation  be  accept- 
ed as  an  instance  absolutely  conclusive,  and  in  the 
fullest  sense  analogous  to  the  problem  that  has  to 
be  solved?  To  whatever  causes  that  first  preva- 
lence of  the  religion  of  the  Bible  may  be  attributed, 
it  is  still  an  unquestioned  fact  that  entire  nations — 
not  one  or  two,  but  many,  and  in  every  stage  of  ad- 
vancement on  the  course  of  civilization,  were  actu- 
ally brought  to  abandon  their  ancient  superstitions, 
and  to  profess  the  Gospel. 

These  amazing  revolutions  took  place  under  al- 
most every  imaginable  variety  of  circumstances, 
and  they  occupied  a  period  of  not  more  than  three 
centuries,  and  the  substantial  part  of  the  change 
had  been  wrought,  to  a  great  extent,  before  the  aid 
of  political  succor  came  in,  and  even  in  the  front 
of  political  opposition.  People  after  people  fell  away 
from  their  idolatries,  and  assumed — with  how  much 
or  how  little  of  cordial  feeling  matters  not — the 
Christian  name  and  code. 

Here  once  more  the  objector  must  be  urged  to 
select    his  alternative: — If  Christianity    won    this 


270  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

wide  success  by  aid  from  heaven,  then  who  will  pro- 
fess to  believe  that  a  religion  so  supported  shall  not 
in  the  end  vanquish  mankind?  Or  if  not,  then, 
manifestly,  the  fact  of  the  spread  of  Christianity  in 
the  east,  and  in  the  west,  in  the  north,  and  in  the 
south,  destroys  altogether  the  supposed  improbabil- 
ity of  its  again  supplanting  idolatry. — Nothing  in- 
separable from  human  nature,  nothing  invincible 
stands  in  the  way  of  the  diffusion  of  our  faith  among 
either  polished  or  barbarous  polytheists: — for  it  has 
already  been  victorious  in  both  kinds.  Let  it  be 
affirmed  and  granted,  that  the  religious  infatuations 
of  mankind  are  firm  as  adamant;  still  it  is  a  fact 
that  a  hammer  harder  than  adamant  once  shattered 
the  rock  to  atoms.  And  now  it  is  proposed  again  to 
smite  the  same  substance  with  the  same  instrument; 
and  are  those  to  be  deemed  irrational  who  anticipate 
the  same  success.^  In  such  an  anticipation  neither 
the  superior  purity  and  excellence  of  Christianity 
need  be  assumed,  nor  its  truth; — nothing  is  peremp- 
torily affirmed  but  its  well-attested  efficiency  to  sub- 
vert and  supplant  other  religious  systems.  A  myr- 
iad of  philosophists  may  clamorously  affirm  the 
missionary  project  to  be  insane.  Nevertheless  Chris- 
tians, listening  rather  to  the  history  of  their  religion 
than  to  the  harangues  of  its  modern  oppugners,  will 
go  on  to  preach  in  every  land,  "That  men  should 
turn  from  dumb  idols  to  serve  the  living  God." 

That  during  a  period  of  more  than  a  thousand 
years  Christianity  should  hardly  have  gained  a  foot 
of  ground  from    polytheism,  and  should  in  some 


OF    CHRISTIAN JTY.  271 

quarters  have  been  driven  in  from  its  ancient  bound- 
aries, is  only  natural,  seeing  that  in  the  whole  course 
of  that  time,  no  extended  endeavors,  or  none  guided 
and  impelled  by  the  genuine  principles  of  the  Gos- 
pel, were  made  to  diffuse  it.  i\ngels  have  no  com- 
mission to  become  evangelists,  and  if  men  neglect 
their  duty  in  this  instance,  no  means  remain  for  sup- 
plying their  lack  of  service.  The  modern  mission- 
ary enterprises  (exclusive  of  some  very  limited  at- 
tempts) do  not  yet  date  forty  years;  and  while  the  / 
fact  that  this  spirit  of  Christian  zeal  has  continued  so 
long  attests  its  solidity,  and  gives  promise  of  its  per- 
petuity, its  recentness — recent  compared  with  the 
work  to  be  achieved — may  justly  be  alleged  in  reply 
to  those  who  ask  (from  whatever  motive)  why  are 
not  the  nations  converted.  Within  this  short  space 
of  time  the  religious  public  has  been  to  be  formed 
to  a  right  feeling  on  the  new  subject;  and  all  the 
practical  wisdom  that  belongs  to  an  enterprise  so 
immense  and  so  difficult  has  been  to  be  acquired; 
and  the  agents  of  the  work  at  home  and  abroad,  to 
be  trained;  and  the  initiatory  obstacle — that  occa- 
sioned by  diversity  of  language,  to  be  removed.  The 
preparatives  have  been  passed  through,  and  successes 
obtained  large  and  complete  enough  to  quash  all 
objection,  and  more  than  enough  to  recompense 
what  they  have  cost.  And  these  successes,  moreover, 
warrant  the  belief  that  the  universal  prevalence  of 
Christianity  (considered  simply  as  an  exterior  pro- 
fession) is  suspended  upon  the  continuance  of  mis- 


272  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

sionary  zeal  among  the  Christians  of  Europe  and 
America. 

Instead  of  allowing  speculation  to  flit  vaguely 
and  ineptly  over  all  the  desolate  places  of  earth's 
surface,  it  w\\\  be  better,  if  we  would  make  our 
calculation  definite,  to  fix  upon  a  single  region; 
and  while  we  assume  it  as  probable  that  the  existing 
spirit  of  missionary  vigilance  and  assiduity  and  self- 
devotion  will  continue  in  vigor  during  the  ensuing 
half-century — endeavor  roughly  to  estimate  the 
chances  of  the  entrance  and  spread  of  Christian 
light  in  that  one  region;  and  let  us  select  the  region 
which  may  be  deemed  altogether  to  occupy  the 
place  of  an  ultimate  problem  of  evangelical  enter- 
prise. Thus  announced,  every  one  will  of  course 
think  of  China. 

Nothing  hardly  is  more  difficult  than  to  view  in 
the  nakedness  of  mere  truth  any  object  remote  from 
personal  observation  which  has  once  filled  the  im- 
agination with  images  of  vastness  and  mystery. 
Thus  it  often  happens  that  benevolent  schemes  are 
robbed  of  their  fair  chance  of  success  by  the  fond 
illusions  which  are  suftered  to  swell  out  an  empty 
bulk,  so  as  to  hide  from  view  the  real  difficulties 
that  ought  to  be  deliberately  met.  And  thus  is  it 
usual  for  the  timid  to  amuse  their  inaction  by  con- 
templating spectral  forms  of  danger  or  obstruction 
that  exist  only  in  the  mind.  Hindrances  and  impos- 
sibilities may  even  yield  a  sort  of  delight  to  the  im- 
agination by  the  aspect  of  greatness  and  terror  they 
assume; — at  least  while  we  resolve  to  view  them 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  273 

only  at  a  distance.  And  in  such  cases  he  must  be 
singularly  destitute  of  poetic  feeling,  or  singularly 
conscientious  and  abstinent  in  the  use  of  language, 
who,  in  describing  the  proposed  enterprise,  does  not 
impart  to  the  mere  facts  a  form  and  coloring  of  un- 
real greatness  and  wonder. 

This  sort  of  illusiveness  and  exaggeration  unques- 
tionably belongs  to  the  subject  of  Christian  missions 
to  China.    Who  does  not  feel  that  the  high  numbers 
of  its  dense    and   far-spread    population — amount- 
ing perhaps  to  more  than  a  sixth  part  of  the  human 
family,  and  the  yet  unpenetrated  veil  of  mystery 
which  hangs  over  the  origin  of  the  people,  and  over 
their  actual  condition,  and  even  over  the  geography 
of  the  country;  and  then  the  singularity  of  the  na- 
tional character,  and  the  anomalous  construction  of 
the  language,  altogether  raise  a  mist  of  obscuration 
which  rests  in  the  way  of  the  inquirer  who  asks — Is 
the  attempt  to  introduce  Christianity  among  these 
millions  of  our  brethren  utterly  vain  and  visionary? 
The  natural  exaggerations  which  infest  this  sub- 
ject have  indeed  been  sensibly  reduced  within  the 
last  few  years:  twenty  years  ago  all  cautious  and 
sagacious    Protestants  would  have   thought  them- 
selves bound,  in  deference  to  common  sense,  to  de- 
ride the  idea  of  converting  China  to   the  faith  of 
Europe.     What  the  De  propaganda,  with  its  store  of 
accommodating  measures  might  attempt,  none  who 
must  adhere   to  the  guileless  methods  of  Christian 
instruction  would  undertake:  or  even  if  an  enter- 
prise of  this  sort  were  commenced,  it  must  be  allow- 
24 


27*1  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

ed  a  date  of  five  hundred  years  for  achieving  any 
considerable  success.  But  better  information,  and 
the  actual  accomplishment  of  the  initiatory  process, 
must  now,  by  the  least  sanguine  minds,  be  deemed 
greatly  to  have  lessened  the  improbabilities  of  such 
an  attempt,  and  to  have  shortened  the  date  of  our 
Christian  hopes.  What  has  been  accomplished  of 
late  by  the  assiduity,  and  the  intellectual  vigor,  and 
the  moral  intrepidity  of  two  or  three  individuals, 
has  turned  the  beam  of  calculation;  and  it  is  now 
rational  to  talk  of  that  which,  very  recently,  might 
not  have  been  named  except  among  visionaries. 

The  brazen  gate  of  China — sculptured  with  in- 
scrutable characters,  and  bolted  and  barred,  as  it 
seemed,  against  western  ingenuity — the  gate  of  its 
anomalous  language,  has  actually  been  set  wide 
open;  and  although  the  ribbon  of  despotic  interdic- 
tion is  still  stretched  across  the  highway  that  leads 
to  the  popular  mind,  access,  to  some  extent,  has 
been  obtained;  and  who  shall  affirm  that  this  frail 
barrier,  insurmountable  as  it  may  now  seem,  shall  at 
all  times,  during  another  fifty  years,  exist,  and  be 
respected?  Within  even  a  much  shorter  term  is  it 
not  probable  that  revolutions  of  dynasty,  or  popular 
commotions,  may  suspend  or  divert,  for  a  moment, 
the  vigilance'  of  jealous  ignorance?  In  some  such 
manner  it  may  be  supposed  that,  the  means  of  dif- 
fusing religious  knowledge  being,  as  they  are,  accu- 
mulated, and  headed  up  above  the  level  of  the 
plains  of  China,  the  dam  bursting,  or  falling  into 


OP    CHRISTIANITY.  275 

decay,  the  healing  flood  of  Christian  truth  shall  suf- 
fuse itself  in  all  directions  over  the  vast  surface. 

But  we  are  told  that  the  national  intellect  is  spell- 
bound in  a  condition  of  irremediable  imbecility.  The 
people,  it  is  said,  have  no  ideas  but  such  as  are  fixed 
under  the  petrifactions  of  their  ancient  usages;  or 
even  if  they  had  a  mind  in  which  ideas  might  float, 
they  have  no  medium  of  communication,  or  none 
which  can  take  up  even  an  atom  of  knowledge  or 
of  sentiment  that  is  of  foreign  growth.  How  then 
shall  such  a  people  be  converted  to  Christianity.'* 
Were  it  not  as  well  to  attempt  to  inform  and  per- 
suade the  sculptures  of  Elephanta,  or  the  glazed 
images  of  their  own  pottery?  To  all  this  show  of 
impossibility,  a  full  and  sufficient  reply  is  contained 
in  a  single  affirmation  of  Scripture — not  less  philo- 
sophically just,  than  it  is  beautiful  and  sublime: — 
"The  Lord  looketh  from  heaven,  He  beholdeth  all 
the  sons  of  men:  from  the  place  of  His  habitation 
He  looketh  upon  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth: — 
He  fashioneth  their  hearts  alike." 

The  old  doctrine  that  there  are  certain  generic 
and  invincible  inferiorities  of  intellect  which  must 
for  ever  bar  the  advancement  of  some  branches  of 
the  human  family,  has  of  late  received  so  signal  a 
refutation  in  the  instance  of  the  African  race — long 
and  pertinaciously  consigned  by  interested  philoso- 
phers to  perpetual  degradation — that  it  now  hardly 
needs  to  be  argued  against.  And  assuredly,  if  the 
negro  cranium  is  found — spite  of  phrenologists — to 
admit  of  mathematical  abstraction,  fine  taste,  and 


276  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

fine  feeling,  it  will  not  be  affirmed  that  the  skull 
of  the  Tartar  or  Chinese  must  necessarily  exclude 
similar  excellencies.  To  assert,  either  that  nature 
has  conferred  no  physical  superiorities,  favorable  to 
the  development  of  mind,  on  particular  races,  or  to 
maintain  that  the  comparative  disadvantages  of 
some  nations  are  so  great  and  unalterable  as  to  con- 
stitute impassable  barriers  in  the  way  of  civiliza- 
tion, is  equally  a  quackery  which  history  and  exist- 
ing facts  condemn,  and  which  nothing  but  the  love 
of  theory  or  simplification  could  ever  recommend 
to  an  intelligent  observer  of  mankind.  With  the 
uniform  evidence  of  history  before  us,  it  may  well 
be  assumed  as  probable  that  certain  races  will  al- 
ways retain  the  intellectual  pre-eminence  they  have 
acquired;  nor  is  it  at  all  less  reasonable  to  suppose 
that  every  tribe,  even  the  most  degraded,  is  intrin- 
sically capable  of  whatever  is  essential  to  a  state  of 
social  order  and  moral  dignity. 

If  the  lowest  degree  of  proficiency  in  the  me- 
chanical arts  is  justly  held  to  give  proof  of  the  ex- 
istence of  those  powers  of  abstraction  whence,  with 
proper  culture,  the  sciences  may  take  their  rise;  so, 
with  equal  certainty,  may  we  infer  a  susceptibility 
of  the  religious  emotions  from  even  the  feeblest  in- 
dications of  the  moral  sense.  When  a  people  dif- 
fused over  so  extensive  a  surface,  and  so  thickly 
covering  that  surface,  is  seen  to  submit  itself  intelli- 
gently to  the  patriarchal  form  of  government,  which 
implies  the  constant  and  powerful  influence  of 
a  moral   abstraction,  and  a  vivid  sense  of  unseen 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  277 

power,  no  doubt  can  remain  of  its  capacity  to  admit 
the  motives  of  Christian  faith. 

The  Chinese  are  what  they  are,  more  from  the 
natural  consequences  of  having  sustained,  du.ing 
many  successive  generations,  what  may  be  termed, 
national  imprisonment,  than  from  the  operation  of 
any  physical  disabilities.  A  more  complete  and 
successful  interdiction  of  intercourse  with  strangers 
than  has  been  known  to  take  place  in  any  other 
country;  and  a  closer  fitting  of  the  restraints  of  cus- 
tom and  etiquette  upon  the  manners  than  has  else- 
where been  effected,  have  not  failed  to  impart  to 
the  national  character  that  peculiar  gait — if  the 
phrase  may  be  so  used,  which  must  distinguish  one 
who  had  been  released  from  his  swaddling-bands  only 
to  be  encumbered  with  a  chain,  and  had  worn  that 
chain  through  life.  Of  the  Chinese  people  it  may 
truly  be  said  that  "the  iron  hath  entered  into  their 
soul." 

But  even  without  resting  upon  the  probability  of 
the  subversion  of  the  existing  despotism,  the  defeat 
of  its  jealous  precautions  may  be  anticipated  as 
what  must  at  length  result  from  the  present  course 
of  events.  That  portion  of  the  Chinese  population 
which  may  be  termed  the  extra  mural,  and  which,  in 
numbers  exceeds  some  European  nations,  may  be 
considered  as  the  depository  of  the  happy  destinies 
of  the  empire:  for  these  expatriate  millions  are  ac- 
cessible to  instruction,  and  if  once  they  become,  to 
any  considerable  extent,  alive  to  religious  truth,  no 
prohibitions  of  paternal  despotism  will  avail  to  ex- 
*24 


278  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

elude  the  new  principles  from  the  mother  country. 
It  is  a  peurile  feeling  that  would  draw  discourage- 
ment from  the  comparative  diminutiveness  and  small 
actual  results  of  the  operations  that  are  carrying  on 
for  imparting  Christianity  to  this  people.  These 
measures  ought,  in  philosophical  justice,  to  be  view- 
ed as  the  commencements  of  an  accelerating  move- 
ment, acting  incessantly  upon  an  inert  mass,  which, 
by  the  very  laws  of  nature,  must  at  length  receive 
impulse  enough  to  be  carried  forward  in  the  course 
of  the  propelling  cause.  To  be  assured  of  this  re- 
sult, all  that  we  need,  is  to  be  assured  of  the  con- 
tinuance of  the  spring  of  movement. 

If  the  several  spheres  of  Missionary  labor  are  re- 
viewed, none,  it  is  presumed,  can  be  deemed  to  offer 
more  serious  obstacles  than  the  one  already  referred 
to;  or  if  there  be  one  such,  yet  have  fact  and  expe- 
rience already  given  a  full  reply  to  all  objections. 
May  it  be  permitted  to  say  that  a  voice  from  heaven, 
full  of  meaning,  is  heard  in  the  particular  character 
of  the  successes — how  limited  soever  they  might  be 
— which  have  crowned  the  incipient  attempts  to 
convert  the  heathen?  The  veriest  reprobates  of 
civilization  and  social  order  have  been  the  first  to 
be  brought  in  to  grace  the  triumphs  of  the  Gospel 
in  its  recent  attempts  at  foreign  conquest;  as  if  at 
once  to  solve  all  doubts,  and  to  refute  all  cavils  re- 
lating to  the  practicability  and  promise  of  the  en- 
terprise. If  it  had  been  thought  or  affirmed  that 
the  stupefaction  and  induration  of  the  heart  pro- 
duced upon  a  race  by  ages  of  uncorrected  ferocity 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  279 

and  sensuality  must  repel  for  ever  the  attempts  of 
Christian  zeal,  it  is  shown,  in  the  instance  of  the 
extremest  specimens  that  could  have  been  selected, 
that  a  kw  years  only  of  beneficent  skill  and  pa- 
tience are  enough  to  transform  the  fierce  and  vol- 
uptuous savage  into  a  being  of  pure,  and  gentle, 
and  noble  sentiments;  that  within  a  few  years  all 
the  domestic  virtues,  and  even  the  public  virtues — 
graced  with  the  decencies  of  rising  industry,  may 
occupy  the  very  spots  that  were  reeking  with  hu- 
man blood,  and  the  filthiness  of  every  abomination 
which  the  sun  blushes  to  behold. 

If  one  islet  only  of  the  Southern  Ocean  had  cast 
away  its  idols  and  its  horrific  customs — if  one  ham- 
let only  of  the  Negro  or  Hottentot  race  had  become 
Christian,  there  would  have  been  no  more  place  left 
on  which  the  objector  against  missions  could  rest 
his  cavils;  for  the  problem  of  the  conversion  of  the 
heathen  would  have  been  satisfactorily  solved.  But 
in  truth,  these  happy  and  amazing  revolutions  have 
taken  place  with  such  frequency,  and  under  so  great 
a  diversity  of  circumstance,  and  in  the  front  of  so 
many  obstacles,  that  instead  of  asking  whether  bar- 
barous nations  may  be  persuaded  to  forsake  their 
cruel  delusions,  it  may  with  more  propriety  be  asked 
— if  any  thing  can  prevent  the  progress  of  such  re- 
forms, universally,  where  Christian  zeal  and  wisdom 
perseveringly  perform  their  part. 

The  relative  political  and  commercial  condition 
of  nations  at  the  present  moment  affords  several 
special  grounds  of  reasoning,  on  which  the  exten- 


280  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

sion  of  Christianity  may  be  anticipated  as  a  prob- 
able event.  Among  topics  of  this  class  may  be 
named  that  of  the  diffusion  of  the  English  language 
— the  language  which  beyond  comparison  with 
any  other  is  spreading  and  running  through  all  the 
earth,  and  which,  by  the  commerce  and  enterprise 
of  two  independent  and  powerful  states,  is  colo- 
nizing the  shores  of  every  sea; — this  language,  now 
pouring  itself  over  all  the  waste  places  of  the  earth, 
is  the  principal  medium  of  Christian  truth  and  feel- 
ing, and  is  rich  in  every  means  of  Christian  instruc- 
tion, and  is  fraught  with  religious  sentiment,  in  all 
kinds,  adapted  to  the  taste  of  the  philosopher,  the 
cottager,  and  the  infant.  Almost  apart,  therefore, 
from  missionary  labor,  the  spread  of  this  language 
insures  the  spread  of  the  religion  of  the  Bible.  The 
doctrine  is  entwined  with  the  language,  and  can 
hardly  be  disjoined.  If  the  two  expansive  princi- 
ples of  colonization  and  commercial  enterprise, 
once  diffused  the  language  and  religion  of  Greece 
completely  around  every  sea  known  to  ancient  nav- 
igation, it  is  now  much  more  probable  tiiat  the  same 
principles  of  diffusion  will  carry  English  institutions, 
and  English  opinions,  into  every  climate. 

But  in  calculations  or  speculations  of  this  sort, 
merely  secular  as  they  are,  much  less  is  included 
than  truly  belongs  to  the  question  at  issue.  Not 
to  assume  the  truth  of  Christianity,  and  not  to  argue 
on  the  ground  of  its  divine  excellence,  and  'not  to 
confide  in  those  prospective  declarations,  the  cer- 
tainty of  which  has  been  attested  beyond  possibility 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  281 

of  doubt,  is  not  only  to  grope  in  the  dark  when  we 
might  walk  in  the  light  of  noon,  but  to  exclude 
from  our  calculations  the  very  facts  of  most  signifi- 
cance in  its  determination.  To  estimate  fairly  the 
probability  of  the  universal  triumph  of  true  religion, 
another  method  must  be  pursued,  in  which  the  ex- 
isting condition  of  the  Christian  Church  is  to  be 
contemplated  with  a  Christian  feeling.  When  thus 
viewed  it  will  appear  that  a  promise  of  a  new  kind 
is  now  bursting  from  the  bud;  and  the  inference 
may  confidently  be  drawn  that — "summer  is  nigh." 

For  the  purpose  of  measuring  the  progress  of  re- 
ligion, attempts  have  sometimes  been  made  to  ef- 
fect a  sort  of  Christian  statistics,  or  calculation  of 
the  actual  number  of  true  believers  throughout  the 
world.  But  the  propriety  of  such  an  application 
of  arithmetic  is  far  from  being  conspicuous;  and 
seeing  that  the  subject  of  computation  lies  confes- 
sedly beneath  the  reach  of  the  human  eye,  its  ac- 
curacy may  be  absolutely  denied.  Endeavors, 
again,  have  been  made  to  judge  of  the  advance  or 
decline  of  religion  by  comparing  the  state  of  devo- 
tional feeling  and  of  morals  in  the  present,  and  in 
other  times.  But  all  such  comparisons  must  be 
deemed,  at  the  best,  extremely  vague,  and  open  to 
immense  errors,  arising  either  from  the  preposses- 
sions of  the  individual  who  makes  the  comparison, 
or  from  the  want  of  data  sufficiently  ample  and  ex- 
act; and  probably  from  both. 

No  attempts  of  this  delusive  kind   will  here  be 
offered  to  the  reader;  but  instead  of  them,  certain 


282  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

unquestionable  and  obvious  facts  will  be  assumed 
as  affording  reasonable  ground  of  very  exhilarating 
hopes. 

If  any  one  were  required,  without  premeditation, 
to  give  a  reply  to  the  question — What  is  the  most 
prominent  circumstance  in  the  present  state  of  the 
Christian  Church — he  would,  if  sufficiently  informed 
on  the  subject,  almost  certainly  answer — "The 
honor  done  to  the  Scriptures."  Such  an  answer  may 
be  supposed  as  suggested  by  the  conspicuousness 
of  the  fact.  Now  in  order  to  gather  our  inference 
safely  from  this  fact,  it  is  necessary  to  look  back  for 
a  moment,  to  past  times. 

In  the  first  and  best  age  of  the  Church,  the  defer- 
ence paid  to  the  inspired  writings,  whether  of  proph- 
ets or  apostles,  was  as  great  as  can  be  imagined  to 
exist:  and  whatever  of  beneficial  influence  belongs 
to  the  Sacred  Volume,  was  then  actually  in  operation; 
— or  it  was  so  with  one  drawback  only,  namely — that 
arising  from  the  scarcity  of  the  book,  and  its  non- 
existence in  the  hands  of  the  Christian  common- 
alty. To  estimate  duly  the  greatness  of  this  disad- 
vantage, let  it  be  imagined  what  would  be  the  effect, 
among  ourselves,  of  a  sudden  withdrawment  of 
almost  all  but  the  church  copies  of  the  Scriptures. 
This  supposition  need  not  be  enlarged  upon,  for 
every  devotional  Christian,  and  every  master  of  a 
family  feels  that,  in  whatever  way  the  loss  might  be 
attempted  to  be  supplied,  it  would  still  be  afflicting 
and  injurious  in  the  extremest  degree. 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  283 

In  the  next,  and  the  declining  period  of  church 
history,  if  the  above-named  disadvantage  was  in 
some  small  degree  remedied  by  the  multiplication 
of  copies,  the  benefit  was  much  more  than  over- 
balanced by  the  promulgation  of  a  general  preva- 
lence of  a  false,  and  very  pernicious  system  of  ex- 
position;— a  system  which  sheathed  the  "sword  of 
the  Spirit,"  and  scarcely  left  it  its  power  of  pene- 
trating the  conscience.  The  immediate  conse- 
quence of  this  abuse  of  the  rule  of  faith  and  prac- 
tice was  the  rapid  growth  af  a  thousand  corruptions. 
Thus,  while  in  lip  and  in  ceremonial  the  Scriptures 
held  their  seat  of  reverence,  they  were  dislodged 
from  the  throne  of  power. 

A  night  of  a  thousand  years  succeeded,  during 
which  the  witnesses  of  God  lay  in  their  tomb — liter- 
ally and  virtually,  hidden,  and  silenced,  and  de- 
graded. 

The  Reformation  was,  in  all  senses,  a  resurrec- 
tion of  the  Bible; — its  recovery  and  restoration  as 
an  ancient  document; — the  recognition  of  its  au- 
thority as  the  word  of  God; — the  discovery  of  its 
meaning  as  a  rule  of  faith  and  worship,  and  life; 
and  its  new  diffusion  through  the  Christian  body. 
The  restoration  of  the  Scriptures  to  their  place  of 
power  and  honor  brought  with  it  a  revival  of  true 
piety,  scarcely,  if  at  all,  inferior  in  extent  and  fer- 
vency to  that  which  attended  the  preaching  of  the 
apostles.  There  were  however  deductions  from  the 
full  influence  and  permanent  benefit  that  might 
have  resulted  from  this  recovery  of  the  sacred  canon. 


284  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

Of  these  deductions  the  first,  was  the  limited 
and  imperfect  diffusion  of  copies;  for  though  the 
publication  of  the  Bible  by  means  of  the  press  was 
actually  great,  it  fell  very  far  short  of  being  com- 
plete. The  next  deduction  arose  from  the  infant 
state  of  the  science  of  biblical  criticism;  the  next, 
from  the  still  unbroken  influence  of  scholastic  sys- 
tems and  modes  of  expression,  which  spread  a  dense 
and  coloring  medium  over  the  lucidness  of  the 
apostolic  style;  the  next  and  the  most  considerable 
and  pernicious  of  these  drawbacks  arose  from  the 
acrimony  of  controversy,  and  from  that  spirit  of  con- 
tumacious scrupulosity  which  is  the  parent  of  schism. 
These  imperfections  were  great  enough  to  bar 
the  progress  of  Christianity  and  to  sully  its  glory 
at  the  time,  and  to  procure  the  speedy  decline  of 
piety  in  all  the  Protestant  countries.  But  when  the 
present  aspect  of  the  church  is  compared  with  its 
condition  at  the  era  of  the  Reformation,  several  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  the  state  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, offer  themselves  to  observation,  that  are  de- 
cidedly in  favor  of  our  times,  and  such  as  seem 
pregnant  with  hope  for  the  future.  Of  these  the 
first,  is  the  unexampled  multiplication  and  difl'usion 
of  the  Sacred  Volume: — The  second,  is  the  progress 
made  towards  bringing  the  original  text  to  a  state 
of  undisputed  purity,  and  the  advancement  of  the 
science  of  biblical  criticism,  by  which  means  the 
verbal  meaning  of  the  inspired  writers  is  now  ascer- 
tained more  satisfactorily  than  at  any  time  since 
the  apostolic  age: — And  the  third,  is  the  prevalence 


OF    CHRISTIANITY. 


285 


of  an  improved  method  of  exposition;  attended  by 
an  increasing  disposition  to  bow  to  the  Bible,  as 
the  only  arbiter  in  matters  of  religion.  It  remains 
then  briefly  to  point  out  in  what  manner  these  au- 
spicious circumstances  support  the  hope  of  an  ap- 
proaching revival  of  genuine  religion. 

For  the  first  of  them,   namely,  the  multiplication 
and  diffusion  of  the  Sacred  Volume. — 

Whenever  the  true  and  the  false  in  matters  of 
religion  are  brought  into  conflict,  two  things  are 
necessary  to  secure  the  triumph  of  the  better  side, 
namely,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  sound  opinion 
should  be  set  forth  in  a  perspicuous  and  convincing 
manner;  and  then,  that  it  should  be  borne  forwards 
over  the  resistances  of  antiquated  prejudice,  and 
worldly  interest,  and  secular  power,  by  the  momen- 
tum of  public  feeling.  It  is  not  the  single  preach- 
ing even  of  an  archangel,  that  could  eftect  the 
renovation  of  the  church,  when  it  really  needs  to  be 
brought  back  to  purity  and  health.  All  the  logic 
of  heaven  would  die  unheeded  on  the  ear,  unless 
re-echoed  from  the  multitude.  Now  if  it  may  for 
a  moment  be  assumed,  that  a  general  rectification 
of  doctrine  and  practice,  and  a  revival  of  primitive 
piety  is  actually  about  to  take  place,  what  is  that 
preliminary  measure  which  might  be  anticipated  as 
the  necessary  means  of  giving  irresistible  force,  and 
universal  spread  to  such  a  reformation? — What  but 
the  placing  of  the  sacred  canon,  the  arbiter  of  all 
dispute,  and  the  fountain  of  all  motive,  previously 
in  the  hands  of  the  people  of  every  country.^  If,  in 
25 


286  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

the  coming  era,  the  teachers  of  religion  are  to  insist 
upon  its  doctrines  and  duties  with  new  force  and 
clearness,  their  success  must  be  expected  to  bear 
proportion  to  the  existence  of  scriptural  knowledge, 
or  to  the  means  of  acquiring  it,  among  those  whom 
they  address. 

An  extraordinary  excitement  of  religious  feeling, 
arising  previously  to  the  general  circulation  of  the 
Scriptures,  can  hardly  be  imagined  to  take  so  pros- 
perous and  safe  a  course,  as  it  would,  '\i\i followed  that 
circulation.  So  far  as  a  conjecture  on  the  methods  of 
divine  procedure  may  be  hazarded,  it  must  be  believ- 
ed that  the  extensive  dissemination  of  the  Scriptures 
which  has  of  late  been  carrying  on,  and  which  is  still 
inactive  progress,  in  all  those  parts  of  the  world  that 
are  accessible  to  Christian  zeal,  is  a  procursive  mea- 
sure, soon  to  be  followed  by  that  happy  revolution  of 
which  it  gives  so  intelligible  an  augury. 

Let  it  be  said,  and  perhaps  it  may  be  said  with  some 
truth,  that  the  actual  religious  impression  hitherto 
produced  by  the  copious  issuing  of  Bibles  among 
the  common  people  in  our  own  and  other  countries, 
is  less  remarkable  than  might  have  been  anticipated; 
then,  with  so  much  the  more  confidence  may  the 
belief  be  entertained,  that  this  extraordinary  publi- 
cation of  the  will  of  God  to  ma'n  is,  on  the  part  of 
Him  who  overrules  all  events  for  the  furtherance  of 
his  gracious  designs,  altogether  n  prospective  measure, 
and  that  the  special  intention  of  these  many  transla- 
tions, and  of  these  countless  reprints  of  the  Bible,  is 
yet  to  be  developed. 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  287 

Is  there  much  of  gratuitous  assumption,  or  of  un- 
warrantable speculation  in  picturing  the  present  po- 
sition of  mankind  in  some  such  manner  as  the  follow- 
ing?— During  a  long  course  of  ages  a  controversy, 
managed  with  various  success,  has  been  carried  on 
here  and  there  in  the  world,  on  the  great  questions 
of  immortality,  and  of  the  liability  of  man  to  future 
punishment,  as  the  transgressor  of  the  divine  law; — 
and  concerning  the  terms  of  reconciliation. — Hith- 
erto, there  has  stood,  on  the  affirmative,  or  religious 
side  of  this  controversy,  only  a  small  and  scattered 
party;  while  on  the  other  side,  there  has  remained, 
with  more  or  less  of  active  hostility,  the  great  major- 
ity of  mankind,  who  have  chosen  to  pursue  exclusive- 
ly the  interests  of  the  present  life,  as  if  no  doctrine 
of  immortality  had  been  credibly  announced;  and 
have  dared  the  future  displeasure  of  the  Most  High; 
and  have  ventured  the  loss  of  endless  happiness;  and 
have  spurned  the  conditions  of  pardon.  But  it  is  im- 
agined that  now,  events  of  a  new  order  are  to  bring 
this  momentous  controversy  to  a  final  crisis. — Yet 
before  the  moment  of  awful  decision  comes  on,  and 
while  all  minds  remain  in  the  listlessness  of  the  an- 
cient apathy,  and  while  the  winds  of  high  commotion 
lie  hushed  in  the  caverns  of  divine  restraint,  in  this 
season  of  portentous  tranquillity,  those  writings,  upon 
the  authority  of  which  the  issue  is  to  turn,  are  put  in- 
to every  hand:  and  although  the  hands  that  receive 
them,  seem  now  to  hold  the  book  with  a  careless 
grasp,  ere  long  an  alarm  shall  be  sounded  through  all 
nations;  all  shall  be  roused  from  their  spiritual  sleep, 


288 


PROBABLE    SPREAD 


and  shall  awake  to  feel  that  the  interests  of  an  end- 
less life  are  in  suspense: — then  shall  it  appear  for  what 
purpose  the  Bible  has  first  been  delivered  to  every 
people. 

These  views,  it  is  granted,  are  in  part  conjectural; 
and  yet,  who  that  entertains  a  belief  of  the  providen- 
tial guidance  of  the  Christian  Church,  can  suppose 
that  the  most  remarkable  course  of  events  that  has 
hitherto  ever  marked  the  history  of  the  Scriptures,  is 
not  charged  with  the  accomplishment  of  some  unu- 
sual revolution;  and  what  revolution  less  than  the  in- 
stalment of  the  Inspired  Volume  in  the  throne  of  uni- 
versal authority,  can  be  thought  of,  as  the  probable  re- 
sult of  the  work  that  is  now  carrying  forwards?  If  the 
prejudices  of  thesceptical  spirit,  which,  in  some  de- 
gree, blind  even  the  most  devout,  were  removed,  ev- 
ery eye  accustomed  to  penetrate  futurity,  would  see 
in  the  recent  diffusion  of  the  Sacred  Writings  an  in- 
dubitable sign  of  their  approaching  triumph  over  all 
forms  of  impiety  and  false  religion. 

The  friends  of  Bible  Societies  might  on  this 
ground,  find  a  motive  for  activity,  proof  against  all 
discouragement.  When  missionary  efforts  meet  dis- 
appointment— when  accomplished  teachers  are  re- 
moved in  quick  succession  by  death — when  stations 
where  much  toil  has  been  expended  are  abandoned 
— when  converts  fall  away  from  their  profession,  the 
whole  fruit  of  zeal  perishes:  but  it  is  otherwise  in 
the  work  of  translating  and  of  multiplying  the 
Scriptures;  for  although  these  endeavors  should  at 
first  be  rejected  by  those  for  whose  benefit  they  are 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  289 

designed;  still,  what  has  been  done  is  not  lost; — the 
seed  sown  may  spring  up,  even  after  a  century  of 
winter.  Even  if  the  existing  Bible  Societies,  at 
home  and  abroad,  should  do  nothing  more  than  ac- 
complish the  initiative  labors  of  translation,  and 
should  spend  their  revenues  in  filling  their  ware- 
houses with  an  undemanded  stock  of  Bibles,  they 
would  almost  ensure  the  universal  diffusion  of  true 
religion  in  the  ensuing  age.  Immediate  success  is 
doubtless  to  be  coveted;  but  though  this  should  be 
withheld,  the  work  of  translation  and  of  printing  is 
full  of  infallible  promise. 

The  restoration  of  the  Sacred  Text  to  a  state  of 
almost  undisputed  purity — the  accumulation  of  the 
resources  of  biblical  criticism,  and  the  great  advan- 
ces that  have  been  made  in  the  business  of  ascer- 
taining the  grammatical  sense  of  the  inspired  writers, 
are  circumstances  in  a  very  high  degree  conducive 
to  the  expected  prevalence  of  genuine  religion. 
Both  infidelity  and  heresy  have,  till  of  late,  found 
harborage  in  the  supposed  or  pretended  corruption 
or  uncertainty  of  the  canon.  And  the  whole  of 
those  small  successes,  which  have  served,  from  time 
to  time,  to  keep  alive  the  flickering  hopes  of  hetero- 
doxy, have  been  drawn  from  the  detection  of  petty 
faults  in  the  vulgar  text.  There  was  a  season  when 
some  even  of  the  champions  of  orthodoxy  became 
infected  with  unwarrantable  fears  and  suspicions  on 
this  ground.  But  the  utmost  depth  of  the  ehuog 
has  been  probed.  The  most  sanguine  sceptic  can 
henceforward  hardly  hope  to  derive  any  new  or  im- 
*25 


290  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

portant  advantages  from  this  source.  The  text  of 
the  Scriptures  is  now  in  a  state  more  satisfactory 
than  that  of  any  other  ancient  writings;  and  though 
impudence  and  ignorance  go  on  to  prate  as  they 
were  wont,  no  theologian,  who  would  not  forfeit  his 
reputation  as  a  scholar  and  a  man  of  sense,  dares  to 
insist  upon  objections  which  some  years  ago  were 
thought  to  be  of  the  most  formidable  kind. 

It  is  remarkable  that  this  work  of  purgation  and 
restoration  which,  like  that  of  the  translation  and 
diffusion  of  the  Scriptures,  is  manifestly  of  a  pre- 
liminary kind,  should  have  been  completed  at  this 
precise  moment.  Had  these  doubts  and  suspicions 
remained  unexamined  and  unsettled,  they  might 
greatly  have  checked  the  progress  of  a  future  relig- 
ious revival;  they  might  have  given  birth  to  new 
heresies,  vigorous  from  the  enhanced  tone  of  general 
feeling;  they  might  have  shaken  the  minds  of  the 
faithful,  and  have  distracted  the  attention  of  the 
ministers  of  religion.  But  this  preparatory  work  is 
done;  and  so  fully  have  the  holds  of  sceptical  doc- 
trine been  searched  into,  and  so  thoroughly  has  the 
invalidity  of  its  pleas  been  exposed,  that  nothing  is 
now  wanted  but  an  energetic  movement  of  the 
public  mind  to  shake  off  for  ever  all  its  withering 
sophisms. 

It  is  not  as  if  even  the  most  faulty  translation  of 
the  Scriptures,  or  one  made  from  the  most  defective 
text,  would  not  abundantly  convey  all  necessary  re- 
ligious truth;  or,  as  if  Christian  doctrine  and  prac- 
tice were,  to  any  great  extent,  dependent  upon  phi- 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  201 

lological  exactitude  of  any  kind.  But  in  removing 
occasions  for  the  cavils  and  insinuations  of  captious 
or  timid  spirits,  the  literary  restoration  of  the  Bible, 
and  the  abundant  means  of  ascertaining  the  gram- 
matical sense  of  its  phrases,  is  liighly  important. 
And  in  looking  towards  the  future,  it  must  be  re- 
garded as  a  circumstance  of  peculiar  significance 
that  the  documents  of  our  faith  have  just  passed 
through  the  severest  possible  ordeal  of  hostile  crit- 
icism, at  the  very  moment  when  they  are  in  course 
of  delivery  to  all  nations. 

The  recent  adoption  of  an  improved  method  of 
exposition  demands  to  be  named  amongst  the  most 
auspicious  indications  of  the  present  times.  Insen- 
sibly, and  undesignedly,  and  from  the  operation  of 
various  causes,  all  well-intentioned  theologians  have 
of  late  been  fast  advancing  towards  that  simple  and 
rational  method  of  inferring  the  doctrine  of  Scrip- 
ture which  corresponds  with  the  inductive  meth- 
od of  inquiry,  practised  in  the  pursuit  of  physical 
science.  Just  as,  in  the  ahcient  schools  of  philoso- 
phy, each  pretended  expounder  of  the  mysteries  of 
nature,  first  framed  his  theory,  and  then  imposed 
upon  all  phenomena  such  an  interpretation  as  w>iuld 
best  accord  with  his  hypothesis,  so  have  biblical  ex- 
positors, in  long  succession,  from  the  ancient  Jewish 
doctors,  to  the  Christian  divines  of  the  last  century, 
with  very  few  exceptions,  followed  the  method  of 
interpreting  each  separate  portion  of  Scripture  by 
the  aid  of  a  previously  formed  theological  hypothesis. 
And  although  these  theories  of  divinity  have  been, 


292  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

perhaps,  fairly  founded  upon  scriptural  evidence,  par- 
tially obtained,  they  have  often  exerted  an  influence 
scarcely  less  blinding  and  pernicious  than  as  if  they 
had  been  altogether  erroneous.  The  system  once  ad- 
mitted to  constitute  a  synopsis  of  truth,  has  been  suf- 
fered to  exercise  the  most  arrogant  domination  over 
every  part  of  Scripture  in  detail.  Certain  dogmas, 
awfully  clothed  in  the  clouds  of  metaphysical  phra- 
seology, have  bid  defiance  to  the  most  explicit  evi- 
dence of  an  opposite  meaning;  and  no  text  has  been 
permitted  to  utter  its  testimony  till  it  had  been 
placed  on  the  rack. 

But  the  folly  and  impiety  of  this  style  of  inter- 
pretation have  become  conspicuous;  and  though 
not  yet  quite  abandoned,  it  is  lef*  to  those  whose 
minds  have  been  too  long  habituated  to  trammels 
to  move  at  all  without  them.  The  rule  of  the  new 
mode  of  exposition  is  founded  on  a  principle  pre- 
cisely analogous  to  that  which  forms  the  basis  of  the 
inductive  method  of  inquiry  in  physical  science.  In 
these  sciences  it  is  now  universally  admitted,  that, 
at  the  best,  and  after  all  possible  diligence  and  sa- 
gacity have  been  employed,  we  can  scarcely  pene- 
trate beyond  the  exterior  movements  of  the  material 
system;  while  the  interior  mechanism  of  nature  still 
defies  human  scrutiny.  Nothing  then  could  be 
more  preposterous  than  to  commence  the  study  of 
nature  by  laying  down,  theoretically,  the  plan  of 
those  hidden  and  central  contrivances,  as  if  they 
were  open  to  observation,  and  then  to  work  out- 
wards from  that  centre,  and  to  explain  all  facts  that 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  293 

come  under  observation  in  conformity  with  the  prin- 
ciples so  ignorantly  assumed.  This  is  indeed  to 
take  a  lie  in  our  right  hand,  as  the  key  of  knowl- 
edge: yet  such  was  the  philosophy  which  ruled  the 
world  for  ages. 

The  method  of  hypothetical  interpretation  is,  if 
possible,  more  absurd  in  theology  than  in  natural 
science.  Every  mind,  not  infatuated  by  intellectual 
vanity,  must  admit  that  it  is  only  some  few  neces- 
sary points  of  knowledge,  relating  to  the  constitu- 
tion and  movements  of  the  infinite  and  spiritual 
world,  that  can  be  made  the  matter  of  revelation  to 
mankind:  and  these  must  be  offered  in  detached 
portions,  apart  from  their  symmetry.  Meanwhile 
the  vast  interior-  -the  immeasurable  whole,  is  not 
merely  concealed,  but  is  in  itself  strictly  incompre- 
hensible by  human  faculties.  Metaphysical  projec- 
tions of  the  moral  system,  how  neat  soever,  and  en- 
tire, and  plausible  they  may  seem,  can  have  no 
place  in  what  deserves  to  be  called  a  rational  theo- 
logy. We  not  only  do  not  know,  but  we  could  not 
learn,  the  very  things  which  the  framers  of  pre- 
tended scientific  divinity  profess  to  spread  forth  in 
all  their  due  proportions  on  their  charts  of  the  upper 
world. 

The  mode  in  which  the  necessarily  incomplete 
revelation  of  that  upper  world  is  conveyed  in  the 
Scriptures,  is  perfectly  in  harmony  with  that  in 
which  the  phenomena  of  nature  offer  themselves  to 
our  notice.  The  sum  or  amount  of  divine  knowl- 
edge really  intended  to  be  conveyed  to  us,  has  been 


294  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

broken  up  and  scattered  over  a  various  surface;  it 
has  been  half-hidden,  and  half-displayed;  it  has 
been  couched  beneath  hasty  and  incidental  allu- 
sions; it  has  been  doled  out  in  morsels  and  in  atoms. 
There  are  no  logical  synopses  in  the  Bible;  there 
are  no  scientific  presentations  of  the  body  of  divin- 
ity; no  comprehensive  digests;  such  would  have 
been,  not  only  unsuited  to  popular  taste  and  com- 
prehension, but  actually  impracticable;  since  they 
must  have  contained  that  which  neither  the  mind  of 
man  can  receive,  nor  his  language  embody.  Better 
far  might  a  seraph  attempt  to  convey  the  largeness 
of  his  celestial  ideas  to  a  child,  than  God  impart  a 
systematic  revelation  to  man.  On  the  contrary,  it 
is  almost  as  if  the  vessel  of  divine  philosophy  had 
been  wrecked  and  broken  in  a  distant  storm,  and  as 
if  the  fragments  only  had  come  drifting  upon  our 
world,  which  like  an  islet  in  the  ocean  of  eternity, 
has  drawn  to  itself  what  might  be  floating  near  its 
shores. 

The  abrupt  and  illogical  style  of  oriental  com- 
position, and,  in  some  instances,  the  characteristic 
simplicity  of  untutored  minds,  are  to  be  regarded  as 
the  appropriate  means  chosen  for  imparting  to  man- 
kind such  loose  particles  of  religious  truth  as  it  was 
necessary  for  them  to  receive.  This  inartificial 
vehicle  was,  of  all  others,  the  one  best  adapted  to 
the  conveyance  of  a  revelation,  necessarily  imper- 
fect and  partial. 

Now  it  is  manifest  that  the  mode  of  exposition 
must  be  conformed  to  the  style  of  the  document; 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  295 

and   this  conformity  demands  that    the  inductive 
method,  invariably,  should  be  used  for  gleaning  the 
sense  of  Scripture.     While  employing  all  the  com- 
mon and  well-known  means  proper  for  ascertaining 
the  grammatical  sense  of  ancient  writers,  each  single 
passage  of  the  Inspired  Volume,  like  a  single  phe- 
nomenon of  nature,  is  to  be  interrogated  for  its  evi- 
dence, without  any  solicitude  for  the  fate  of  a  pre- 
conceived theory,  and  without  asking — how  is  this 
evidence   to  be  reconciled   with  that  derived  from 
other  quarters:  for  it  is  remembered  that  the  reve- 
lation we  are  studying  is  a  partial  discovery  of  facts, 
which  could  not  be  more  than   imperfectly  made 
known.     Whoever  has  not  yet  fully  satisfied  him- 
self that  the  Scriptures,  throughout,  were  "given  by 
inspiration  of  God,"  should  lose  no  time  in  deter- 
mining that  doubt:  but  if  it  be  determined,  then  it 
is  a  flagrant  inconsistency  not  to  confide   in   the 
principle  that  the  Bible  is  every  where  truly  con- 
sistent  with  itself,  whether  or  not    we  have    the 
means  of  tracing  its  agreements.     And  while  this 
principle  is  adhered  to,  no  sentiment  or  fact  plainly 
contained  in  the  words,  need  be  refused  or  contort- 
ed on  account  of  its  apparent  incongruity  with  sys- 
tematic divinity. 

In  this  manner  only  is  it  possible  that  the  whole 
amount  of  religious  knowledge  intended  to  be  im- 
parted  by  the  Scriptures  can  be  gathered  from 
them.  It  must  be  granted  as  not  only  probable, 
but  certain,  that  whatever  relates  to  infinity — to 
the  divine  nature — to  the  ultimate  purposes  of  the 


296  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

divine  government — to  the  unseen  worlds — and  to 
the  future  state,  and  even  to  the  mechanism  of  mo- 
tives, must  offer  itself  to  the  human  understanding 
in  a  form  beset  with  difficulties.  That  this  must 
actually  be  the  case  might  be  demonstrated  to  a 
mathematical  certainty.  If  therefore  we  resolve  to 
receive  from  the  Inspired  Writers  nothing  but  what 
we  can  reconcile,  first  with  certain  abtruse  notions^ 
and  then  with  a  particular  interpretation  of  other 
passages,  the  consequences  is  inevitable — that  we 
obtain  a  theology,  needlessly  limited,  if  not  erro- 
neous. 

It  may  fairly  be  supposed  that  there  are  treasures 
of  divine  knowledge  yet  latent  beneath  the  surface 
of  the  Scriptures,  which  the  practice  of  scholastic 
exposition,  so  long  adhered  to,  on  all  sides,  has 
locked  up  from  the  use  of  the  Church;  and  it  may 
be  hoped,  that  when  that  method  has  fallen  com- 
pletely into  disuse,  and  when  the  simple  and  hum- 
ble style  of  inductive  interpretation  is  better  under- 
stood, and  more  constantly  resorted  to  than  at  pre- 
sent, and  when  the  necessary  imperfection  and  in- 
coherency  of  all  human  knowledge  of  divine  things 
is  fully  recognised,  and  when  the  vain  attempt  to 
fashion  a  miniature  model  of  the  spiritual  universe  is 
for  ever  abandoned,  and  when  whatever  the  Inspir- 
ed Writers  eitiier  explicitly  affirm,  or  obscurely  in- 
timate, is  embraced  in  simplicity  of  heart,  that  then 
the  boundaries  of  our  prospect  of  the  hidden  and 
the  future  world  may  be  vastly  enlarged.  Nor  is 
this  all; — for  in  the  same  manner  the  occasions  of 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  297 

controversy  will  be  almost  entirely  removed;  and 
though  smaller  differences  of  opinion  may  remain, 
it  will  be  seen  by  all  to  be  flagrantly  absurd  to  as- 
sume such  inconsiderable  diversities  as  the  pretexts 
of  dissension  and  separation. 

No  one  cordially  reverencing  the  Bible,  and  be- 
lieving it  to  be  given  by  inspiration  of  God — who 
is  "not  the  author  of  confusion,  but  of  order,"  can 
imagine  it  to  have  been  so  worded  and  constructed 
as  to  necessitate  important  diversities  of  interpreta- 
tion among  those  who  humbly  and  diligently  labor 
to  obtain  its  meaning.  Nor  will  any  but  the  most 
absurd  bigots  deny  that  with  those  who  differ  from 
themselves,  there  may  be  found  diligence  and  sin- 
cerity quite  equal  to  their  own.  What  account 
then  is  to  be  given  of  those  contrarieties  of  opinion 
which  continue  to  sully  the  glory  of  the  Christian 
Church,  and  to  deprive  it  almost  entirely  of  its  ex- 
pansive energy.^ 

In  endeavoring  to  give  a  satisfactory  reply  to  this 
important  question,  we  are,  of  course,  entitled  to 
dismiss  from  the  discussion,  first,  all  those  errors  of 
doctrine  which  spring  immediately  from  the  prepos- 
sessions of  proud  and  unholy  minds,  and  which  are 
not  to  be  refuted  until  such  evil  dispositions  are 
rectified.  It  is  not  merely  a  better  exposition  of 
Scripture  that  will  afford  a  sufficient  remedy  for 
such  false  opinions.  In  the  next  place  it  is  proper 
to  put  out  of  the  question  all  those  politico-religious 
divisions  which,  as  they  originated  in  accidents,  so 
now  rest  for  their  maintenance  much  less  upoh  rea- 
son, than  upon  the  authority  of  habit,  and  the  per- 
26 


298  ""         PROBABLE    SPREAD 

tinacity  of  party  feeling,  or  perhaps  even  upon 
motives  of  secular  interest.  All  such  causes  of 
schism  must  give  way  and  be  scattered  to  the  winds 
whenever  the  authority  of  the  divine  injunctions  to 
peace,  and  union,  and  mutual  forbearance,  are 
forcibly  felt. 

There  should  moreover  be  dismissed  from  the 
question  those  differences  that  have  arisen  in  the 
Church  on  some  special  points  of  antiquarian  ob- 
scurity:— these,  having  been  in  a  past  age  absurdly 
lifted  into  importance  by  an  exaggerated  notion 
of  the  right  and  duty  of  Christians  to  stickle  upon 
their  individual  opinions,  even  at  the  cost  of  the 
great  law  of  love,  are  now  pretty  generally  felt  by 
men  of  sense  and  right  feeling,  to  be  heir-looms  of 
shame  and  disadvantage  to  whoever  holds  them. 
A  very  probable  return  to  good  sense  and  piety  is 
all  that  is  needed  to  get  rid  for  ever  of  such  dis- 
putes. If  the  utmost  endeavors  of  competent 
and  honest  men,  on  both  sides,  have  not  availed 
to  put  certain  questions  of  ancient  usage  beyond 
doubt;  then  it  is  manifest  that  such  points  belong 
not  to  the  fundamentals  of  faith  or  practice,  and 
therefore  can  never  afford  ground  of  justifiable  sep- 
aration, nor  should  the  Christian  commonality  be 
encouraged  to  suppose  that  the  solemnities  of  con- 
science are  implicated  in  the  decision  of  questions 
which,  even  tiie  most  learned,  cannot  in  fact  decide. 
What  less  than  a  grievous  injury  to  right  feelings 
can  ensue  from  the  popular  belief  that  the  manifold 
evils  of  religious  dissension  are  mischiefs  of  small 
moment,  compared  with   the  breach  of  some  nice- 


OF    CHRISTIANITY.  299 

ties  of  ceremonial?  Shall  Christianity  spread  in 
the  world,  and  show  itself  glorious,  while  egregious 
practical  absurdities  like  these  are  persisted  in? — 
assuredly  not.  But  there  is  reason  to  believe,  even 
in  spite  of  the  fixedness  of  some  unsocial  spirits,  that 
the  date  of  schism  is  nearly  expired,  and  that  a  bet- 
ter understanding  of  the  great  law  of  Christ  will 
ere  long  bring  all  his  true  followers  into  the  same 
fold. 

When  the  deductions  named  above  have  been 
made,  the  remaining  differences  that  exist  among 
the  pious  are  only  such  as  may  fairly  be  attributed 
to  the  influence  of  the  old  theoretic  system  of  in- 
terpretation; and  they  are  such  as  must  presently 
disappear  when  the  rule  of  inductive  exposition 
shall  be  thoroughly  understood  and  generally  prac- 
tised. The  hope  therefore  of  an  approaching  pros- 
perous era  in  tiie  church  depends,  in  great  meas- 
ure, upon  the  probability  of  a  cordial  return  to  the 
authority  of  Scripture — of  scripture  unshackled  by 
hypothesis.  This  return  alone  can  remove  the  mis- 
understandings which  have  parted  the  body  of 
Christ;  and  it  is  the  reunion  of  the  faithful  that  must 
usher  in  better  times. 

That  a  torn  church  should  be  eminently  pros- 
perous— that  it  should  be  favored  as  the  instrument 
of  diffusing  the  Gospel  with  triumphant  success, 
and  on  a  large  scale,  among  the  nations,  cannot  be 
imagined;  for  doubtless  the  Head  of  the  Church 
holds  the  most  emphatic  of  his  admonitions  in 
higher  esteem  than  that  he  should  easily  brook  the 
breach  and  contempt  of  it,  and  put  extraordinary 


300  PROBABLE    SPREAD 

honor  upon  those  who  seem  to  love  their  particular 
opinions  more  than  His  commandment. 

Even  without  laying  any  great  stress  upon  that  sof- 
tening of  party  prejudices  which  has  of  late  actually 
taken  place,  (though  in  fact  conciliation  is  advanc- 
ed very  far)  the  hope  of  a  near  termination  of  con- 
troversy, and  of  the  healing  of  all  permanent  differ- 
ences among  true  Christians,  may  still  rest  on  solid 
ground.  An  intelligent  faith  in  the  divine  origina- 
tion of  the  Scriptures  contains  necessarily  a  belief 
in  their  power  to  bring  the  Catholic  Church  into  a 
state  of  unity,  so  that  division  should  no  more  be 
thought  of.  That,  during  so  many  ages  this  has  not 
been  the  condition  of  the  Christian  body,  is  satis- 
factorily to  be  attributed  to  causes  which  are  by  no 
means  of  inevitable  perpetuity;  but  which,  on  the 
contrary,  seem  now  to  be  approaching  their  last 
stage  of  feeble  existence.  Meanwhile  the  Oracles 
of  God  are  visibly  ascending  to  the  zenith  of  their 
rightful  power.  The  necessary  preparations  for 
their  instalment  in  the  place  of  undisputed  authority 
are  completed;  and  nothing  is  waited  for  but  a 
movement  of  general  feeling,  to  give  them  such  in- 
fluence as  shall  bear  down  whatever  now  obstructs 
the  universal  communion  of  the  faithful. 

An  expectation  of  this  sort  will,  of  course,  be 
spurned  by  those  (if  there  are  any  such)  who,  were 
they  deprived  of  their  darling  sectarianism,  and 
robbed  of  their  sinister  preferences,  would  scarcely 
care  at  all  for  Christianity,  and  to  whom  the  idea  of 
Catholic  Christianity,  if  they  can  admit  sucfi  an 
idea,  is  a  cold  abstraction.     And  it  will  be  rejected 


OF     CHRISTIANITY.  301 

also  by  those  wlio,  though  their  feelings  are  Chris- 
tian, accustom  themselves  to  look  at  the  state  of 
religion  always  with  a  secular  eye,  and  are  indis- 
posed to  admit  any  suppositions  that  are  not  obtrud- 
ed upon  them  by  immediate  matter  of  fact.  To 
all  such  persons  the  existing  obstacles  that  stand 
in  the  way  of  Church  union,  must  seem  utterly  in- 
surmountable, and  the  hope  of  an  annihilation  of 
party  distinctions,  altogether  chimerical.  But  it  is 
not  to  such  minds  that  the  appeal  is  to  be  made 
when  futurity  is  in  question;  for  such  are  always 
slaves  of  the  past,  and  of  the  present,  and  are  des- 
tined to  stand  by,  and  wonder,  and  cavil,  while 
happy  revolutions  are  in  progress;  and  it  is  only 
when  resistance  to  the  course  of  things  becomes 
impracticable  that  they  are  dragged  on  reluctantly, 
more  like  captives  than  attendants,  upon  the  tri- 
umphant march  of  truth. 

This  assuredly  may  be  asserted,  that  so  far  as  hu- 
man agency  can  operate  to  bring  on  a  better  era  to 
the  church,  he  who  despairs  of  it,  hinders  it,  to  the  ex- 
tent of  his  influence;  while  he  who  expects  it,  hastens 
it,  so  far  as  it  may  be  accelerated.  This  difference 
of  feeling  might  even  be  assumed  as  furnishing  a 
test  of  character,  and  it  might  be  affirmed  that  when 
the  question  of  the  probable  revival  and  spread  of 
Christianity  is  freely  agitated,  those  who  embrace 
the  affirmative  side  are  (with  few  exceptions)  the 
persons  whose  temper  of  mind  is  the  most  in  har- 
mony with  the  expected  happy  revolution,  and  who 
would,  with  the  greatest  readiness,  act  their  parts 
*26 


302  PROBABLE    SPREAD      OF    CHRISTIANITY. 

in  a  new  and  better  economy;  while  on  the  contra- 
ry, those  who  contentedly  or  despondingly  give  a 
long  date  to  existing  imperfections  and  corruptions, 
may  fairly  be  suspected  of  loving  "the  things  that 
are"  too  well. 

There  is  yet  another  line  of  argument,  wholly  in- 
dependent of  the  two  that  have  been  pursued  above, 
in  which  the  general  spread  of  true  religion  might 
be  made  to  appear  an  event  probably  not  very  re- 
mote— namely,  the  argument  from  prophecy.  But 
besides  that  the  subject  is  by  far  too  large  and  se- 
rious to  be  treated  hastily,  the  time  is  not  arrived 
in  which  it  might  be  discussed  with  the  calmness 
it  demands.  Yet  in  passing  this  subject  it  may  be 
suggested  to  those  who,  notwithstanding  that  they 
admit  the  truth  of  Christianity,  constantly  deride 
genuine  piety  whenever  it  comes  in  their  way,  that 
though  the  apparent  course  of  events  seems  to 
indicate  a  gradual  improvement,  such  as  would 
give  time  to  oppugners  to  choose  the  wiser  part, 
and  to  range  themselves  quietly  in  the  train  of  the 
conquering  religion,  the  general  tenor  of  scriptural 
predictions  holds  out  a  different  prospect,  and  gives 
great  reason  to  suppose  that  the  final  triumph  of 
the  Gospel  is  to  be  ushered  in  by  some  sudden  and 
vindictive  visitation,  which  shall  arrest  impiety  in 
its  full  career,  and  deny  for  ever  to  the  then  impeni- 
tent the  option  of  making  a  better  choice. 

THE    END. 


1 

DATE  DUE 

r 

i     ■** 

CAVLOHD 

PRINTEDINU.S.A. 

